And you’re as clean as fire. That wrappered life, as you call it—we’ve burned the confounded rags! Danced out of it! We’re stark!” “Stark!” echoed Ann Veronica. Why was he there? why did the tempter dare to invade that sacred spot! She could not answer her own questions, but vague fearful suspicions passed through her mind. He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. ‘I can’t tell you the times I’ve wished for a gun to point at Hilary’s head.
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