" "Can you make me honest?" cried Jack. They made a stratum into which Ann Veronica was now plunged up to her neck; it had become her stratum. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. But your role would have been to go about saying, ‘I beg your pardon’ in a reproving tone to things you understood quite well in your heart and saw no harm in. Though there is something to be said for your idea of a secret convent, at least as a hiding place. " "And you want me to find a minister?" she asked, with ready comprehension. " "You are an angel, I say," continued the poor maniac; "and my Jack would have been like you, if he had lived. "Egad!" exclaimed Wood, "you've hit the right nail on the head, anyhow.
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