“Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. I struck him across the face, twisted the steering wheel of the motor, sprang out myself, and left him for dead on the road with the motor on top of him. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. That’s about the beginning. No one would ever know what happened to him. Ann Veronica blushed. He was out of breath, and spoke in broken sentences. The operation was effected with so much rapidity and so little noise, that even if any one had been on the alert, he could scarcely have detected it. We, ourselves, are scarcely the same we were twelve years ago. Gosse would have killed me, and perhaps in the fight I might kill him.
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