She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. “Well, rather,” said Ann Veronica. ‘Go and fetch her home,’ he said; ‘it isn’t what we thought! It’s just a practical joke of hers. It's as well to be on the safe side. The tables were then cleared. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing. As time wore on, and they did not return, Mr. ‘Ha!’ uttered Captain Roding triumphantly.
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