The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. She helped Jack to sit down, and dragged the jacket off him, lifting his shirt to expose the gash that had sliced across his side. “Yes,” said Ann Veronica, trying to think where they were, trying to get things plain again that had seemed plain enough in the quiet of the night. What would happen when next morning she returned to Morningside Park? He couldn’t turn her out of doors. She saw marks in the dirt where he had been pacing. ” “One may do both,” said Ann Veronica. .
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