Ann Veronica hesitated with a question that had leaped up in her mind, and that she felt was cruel. “Dear friend,” she said, “do you not think that you are breaking an unspoken compact? I am very sorry. Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. The beachcomber, the lowest in the human scale; and some day he would enter into this estate. What was the objection? She found it impossible to look her own diffidence in the face. Conscience was always digging sudden pits for his feet and common sense ridiculing his fears. They got on wonderfully well together. His mind was filled briefly with psychic images of a charnel house that danced like a spider in his head.
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