“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’s fine, Michelle. Then he stood up and hailed a fiacre. She was not allowed to bathe herself: another prisoner, with a privileged manner, washed her. ‘We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. She breathed into a cloth soaked in rose oil as Sebastian had prescribed, but the smell of roses mixed obscenely with the smell of death and decay, causing her to retch.
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