John picked it up and put it in her hands. I have no intention of allowing you to depart in a hurry. ‘Why, what have I said?’ ‘You said to me my name. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. That is why I have dyed my hair, that is why I have abandoned my rôle of ingenuèe and altered my whole style of dress. Some of your sex, I mean. Ann Veronica’s experiences of men had been among more stable types—Teddy, who was always absurd; her father, who was always authoritative and sentimental; Manning, who was always Manning. Where her husband saw only two youngsters in the mating mood, she felt that tragedy in some phase lurked in this room—if only in the loneliness of these two, without kith or kin apparently, thousands of miles from home. Stanley admired and detested him in almost equal measure.
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