9. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. " "Who are you!" demanded the fugitive, sternly. He had let go his name so easily as that! What was the name she had given? Ruth something; he could not remember. “You must arrest me!” she gasped, breathlessly, insisting insanely on a point already carried; “you shall!” The police-station at the end seemed to Ann Veronica like a refuge from unnamable disgraces. “It would have been rash and unwise,” she said at the end of a meditation. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid.
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