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Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. ‘We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. Something tells me I am rushing on greater danger. Show him no quarter, Poll. E. Then her head disappeared suddenly in her hands, and her shoulders shook violently. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion.
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