The very old lady in the antimacassar touched Ann Veronica’s arm suddenly, and said, in a deep, arch voice: “Talking of love again; spring again, love again. ‘But you said—’ Gerald tutted. Oh God! my limbs fail me. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. He pushed her to his bed, little more than a cot, and pulled off her clothes. He came in with his hands in his trousers pockets and a general air of depression in his bearing. My friends consider it wonderfully faithful. It may bring us together again. In all her life no living thing had had to depend upon her, not even a dog or a cat. " "Of course," rejoined Quilt, maliciously; "every thief is so.
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