At this gate two paths meet. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. ’ So that was it. They are their mother’s sons. Her fingers rested upon his. “You must arrest me!” she gasped, breathlessly, insisting insanely on a point already carried; “you shall!” The police-station at the end seemed to Ann Veronica like a refuge from unnamable disgraces. "Give me the child, or—" As he spoke the door was thrown open, and Mrs.
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