The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. He was unusually absurd and ready, and all the time it seemed to Ann Veronica as a delightful possibility, as a thing not indeed to be entertained seriously, but to be half furtively felt, that he was being so agreeable because she had come back again. Her confession was still unmade. “Lucy! You found me! I was just about to sleep some of those rum and Cokes off like the pig I am. ’ The core of hurt rose up, tearing at her insides. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience.
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