It was something that would create a mutual claim, a relationship. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. Ann Veronica was apologetic to the bottom of her soul. Trees were torn up by the roots; many houses were levelled to the ground; others were unroofed; the leads on the churches were ripped off, and "shrivelled up like scrolls of parchment. John knew better. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. Heaven knows what dim and tawdry conceptions of passion and desire were in that blond cranium, what romance-begotten dreams of intrigue and adventure! but they sufficed, when presently Ann Veronica went out into the darkling street again, to inspire a flitting, dogged pursuit, idiotic, exasperating, indecent. They had much to talk about, or rather Miss Prudence had.
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