But his treasured dream lay shattered at his feet. Only a few weeks ago there was a bloody battle on the bridge there between the soldiery and the local police. She seemed tense when not playing, he noted, more so than she had during the first two pieces. She meditated long and carefully upon her letter to her father before she wrote it, and gravely and deliberately again before she despatched it. “Whenever they try to take hold of life a man intervenes. “You must arrest me!” she gasped, breathlessly, insisting insanely on a point already carried; “you shall!” The police-station at the end seemed to Ann Veronica like a refuge from unnamable disgraces. The pursuit of pleasure, selfgratification, is an original instinct with her. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. ‘God loves you, even if your father didn’t. Then to the Feathers, in Drury Lane. He lit a cigarette and loitered about. Spurling in alarm.
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