“Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. ” “I told them a lie. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. “Are you with us?” said the tired woman. For fifteen years!—so long as I can remember! All I wanted was a little love, a caress now and then. He came in apologetically; all the old “Well, and how ARE we?” note gone; and once he asked Ann Veronica, almost furtively, “How’s Alice getting on, Vee?” Finally, on the Day, he appeared like his old professional self transfigured, in the most beautiful light gray trousers Ann Veronica had ever seen and a new shiny silk hat with a most becoming roll. It penetrated the skin; benumbed the flesh; paralysed the faculties.
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