Steeples toppled, and towers reeled beneath its fury. “One can’t tell. Heaven knows what dim and tawdry conceptions of passion and desire were in that blond cranium, what romance-begotten dreams of intrigue and adventure! but they sufficed, when presently Ann Veronica went out into the darkling street again, to inspire a flitting, dogged pursuit, idiotic, exasperating, indecent. The knight and his followers crossed the threshold, leaving one of the torch-bearers behind them. ‘Poor things. She loved him. Guiding this man of hers over the troubled sea of life had engraved these lines.
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