” Part 2 As Ann Veronica went back along the Avenue to her aunt she became aware of a light-footed pursuer running. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. ” Ann Veronica gave him a pallid profile. I've watched this lad—this Sheppard—from infancy; and, though I have apparently concerned myself little about him, I have never lost sight of my purpose.
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