” “It might become one,” he answered. He was unusually absurd and ready, and all the time it seemed to Ann Veronica as a delightful possibility, as a thing not indeed to be entertained seriously, but to be half furtively felt, that he was being so agreeable because she had come back again. She could not stir hand or foot. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. "My mother is avenged. PITT, the keeper of Newgate. His own peculiar genius—a miracle key to the hidden things in men's souls—had given him this immediate and astonishing illumination. Or I should say—’ ‘Eugenia,’ cut in Gerald grimly. And, stretching out his hand, he lifted the dark object from the flood. Anyhow he confessed that he was a fraud.
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