It is queer how ideas pop into one's head. "Mother—dear mother! Once again, I beseech you to listen to me. Much too formal for a cosy chat between old friends. “I know you very well by sight, Sir John. She despises me, I suppose. Ann Veronica halted a pace, and Miss Klegg came alongside. To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death. It was, Ann Veronica felt, as a sip or so of that remarkable blend warmed her blood, just the sort of thing that her aunt would not approve, to be lunching thus, tete-a-tete with a man; and yet at the same time it was a perfectly innocent as well as agreeable proceeding. Master and missis have been talking all day long about Jack Sheppard, and I'm dying to read his life. You needn’t be in any doubt about it. Her teachers and mistresses had done their best to stamp her mind with an ineradicable persuasion that it was tremendously important, and on no account to be thought about.
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