" "The very idea is dreadful," whimpered Edgeworth Bess. CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. Her hair got loose, her hat came over one eye, and she had no arm free to replace it. But all those empty years!… My heart was hot. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. Do you think it’s nothing to me to have my daughter running about London looking for odd jobs and disgracing herself?” “Sha’n’t get odd jobs,” said Ann Veronica, wiping her eyes.
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