Ann Veronica glanced at the mirror to discover a flushed and dishevelled disorder. ‘That—that—why do you speak of him?’ ‘Because I feel you ought to know,’ Gerald said calmly, but rising and watching her closely, ‘that all your trouble may be in vain. You knew me in Paris. There was a man, a boy, and a woman. “You delicate female!” “Who cares,” said Ann Veronica, “seeing it’s you? Warm, soft little wonders! Of course I want them. Then suddenly her spirit rose in revolt. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth.
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