A fever of shame ran through her being. “I wonder,” said Ann Veronica at last, “if I am beautiful? I wonder if I shall ever shine like a light, like a translucent goddess?— “I wonder— “I suppose girls and women have prayed for this, have come to this—In Babylon, in Nineveh. Gianfrancesco became agitated. Her eyes were perhaps a little brighter than usual, the firelight played about her hair, there seemed to him to be a sudden softening of the straight firm mouth. It was a port of call, since fortnightly a British mail-boat dropped her mudhook in the bay. It seems only yesterday that she was running down the Avenue, all hair and legs.
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