" The young woman laid a finger on her lips, cautioning O'Higgins to silence. “My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive. He used to call it his fire-escape—ha! ha! I've often used the ladder for my own convenience, but I never expected to turn it to such good account. She prevaricated. "Back!" he cried fiercely. She stood without motion and without strength. Then one old crone, short-sighted and shaky-handed, called Ann Veronica “dearie,” and made some remark, obscure and slangy, of which the spirit rather than the words penetrated to her understanding. For it was but logical that she would seek a divorce on the ground that she had unknowingly married a fugitive from justice.
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