Mrs. “Beautiful these autumn flowers are,” said Ann Veronica, in a wide, uncomfortable pause. I haven’t murdered any one, or broken the law in any way that I know of. She was chaffing him about being taken for Meysey Hill, and suggested that he should be presented to me as the millionaire. Rather a magniloquent term, perhaps, but what else am I to say? One of these is that the most absolutely selfish thing in the world is to give way to depression, to think of one’s troubles at all except of how to overcome them. Shamefaced curiosities began to come back into her mind, thinly disguised as literature and art. “You’re great, Lucy! I had no idea you were so great!” John exclaimed.
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