One day she awoke and he was cavorting about underneath the covers. Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified. His gaze dropped to the black garment that covered her. Ann Veronica, after a last survey of the dinner appointments, followed him, rustling, came to his side by the high brass fender, and touched two or three ornaments on the mantel above the cheerful fireplace. “Dyed!” “And your figure?” “One’s corsetière arranges that. She read voraciously, and presently, because of her aunt’s censorship, she took to smuggling any books she thought might be prohibited instead of bringing them home openly, and she went to the theatre whenever she could produce an acceptable friend to accompany her. 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. "So has the butterfly evil thoughts. Imagine any one on this side refusing fifty bucks! Well, I'll be toddling along. In the mornings I find labour easy because I am going to see you.
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