He did not notice that Ann Veronica was preoccupied and heavy-eyed. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,—would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,—and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father. I've despatched him to the New Prison.
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