” And Ann Veronica’s face was hot. I don’t want to tear at you with hot, rough hands. ’ Then Hilary became serious again. I don’t mean I’m not a good woman—I mean that I’m not a GOOD woman. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre. No breakfast, he’s had no dinner, hardly a mouthful of soup— since yesterday at tea. Very slowly, very fearfully, she turned her head. "We shall be obliged to force it. ” “For a little time,” she answered. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. This happened after he ate. Soot was everywhere, for the lamp would not stay trimmed in the gale. I’ve thought that out, and you must make up your mind to it.
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