A bowl of roses, just brought by Ann Veronica, adorned the communal dressing-table, and Ann Veronica was particularly trim in preparation for a call she was to make with her aunt later in the afternoon. She stood on the mat instead, and looked down on him. ‘He could have little comfort there, indeed. It was a moment or two before Gerald, opening his eyes on the girl’s astounded expression, recollected himself sufficiently to pull out of the extraordinary impact she’d had on him. The woman shrugged her shoulders. Good-looking girl. The poor fellow's half smothered. He daren't quarrel with me: and if he does, let him look to himself.
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