The Jew did not speak, but pointed to the audience-chamber. " "Look here, my boy, that attitude is all damned nonsense. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. “My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive. The twists in his brain had suddenly straightened out; he was normal, wholly himself; and he knew now exactly what he had done.
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