Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. She was wan and white. Ann Veronica intervened a little in the novelist discussion with a defence of Esmond and a denial that the Egoist was obscure, and when she spoke every one else stopped talking and listened. The problem had returned, made gigantic by the possibility of Ruth's love. She forgot her vital hatred of the South Seas; she forgot that McClintock's would not differ a jot from the old island she had for ever left behind her; she forgot all the doctor's lessons and warnings. “I wonder!” said Miss Stanley. The inn was a military haunt. “Think of the mockery!” she said. EPOCH THE FIRST, 1703.
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