The girl was in the game now, and that narrowed the circle. Her head dipped deeply into the current, and she narrowly escaped being swamped. Not far from the entrance, on the left, was a sort of screen, or partition-wall, reaching from the floor to the ceiling, formed of thick oaken planks riveted together by iron bolts, and studded with broad-headed nails. This intercourse, which had been planned to warm Ann Veronica to a familiar affection with Ramage, was certainly warming Ramage to a constantly deepening interest in Ann Veronica. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent.
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