“And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. Arrived in the plantation she sat down with her back against a tree trunk. Jack fell on his knees beside her. ’ ‘I am afraid that there is,’ Gerald told her evenly. There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a halfemptied rummer before him,—there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return,—for he was almost past consciousness,—the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear. The girl stupidly ran for the teacher leaving her still without clothing. The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry. She saw her aunt in tears, her father white-faced and hard hit.
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