They were suddenly thrown aside, and a man stepped out from his hiding-place. Ann Veronica’s experiences of men had been among more stable types—Teddy, who was always absurd; her father, who was always authoritative and sentimental; Manning, who was always Manning. “It is possible,” Courtlaw said, “that you too were deceived. To fight inertia on the one hand and to study this queer girl on the other. “Stop!” He ran towards her. The thought had not even occurred to him. And, though neither peace nor innocence can be restored to my bosom; though tears cannot blot out my offences, nor sorrow drown my shame; yet, knowing that my penitence is sincere, I do not despair that my transgressions may be forgiven.
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