The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. How could she tell him of the evil that drew her and drew her, as a needle to the magnet?—the fascinating evil that even now, escaped as it was, went on distilling its poison in her mind? "Yes, yes!" said the doctor. " "My God!" cried Trenchard, stunned by the intelligence, "I have killed her. “This is MY thing,” said Ann Veronica, softly, with thoughtful eyes upon him.
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