What CAN she put before that?” His voice began to rise. Suddenly she had become afraid. “Alice—Alice gone dotty, and all over kids. “MY DEAR MISS STANLEY,” it began,—“I hope you will forgive my bothering you with a letter, but I have been thinking very much over our conversation at Lady Palsworthy’s, and I feel there are things I want to say to you so much that I cannot wait until we meet again. “And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. The individual twist was always there, even in the cleverest forgeries. When he had finished he took up the wine list and ordered a bottle of dry champagne. She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. Ann Veronica had no answer for a moment. Darrell.
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