“Are you aware, Ann Veronica, you nearly throttled that gentleman?” Then she reviled her own foolish way of putting it. He's an interpretative genius, if there ever was one. She felt a cheat and a sneak to his unsuspecting retreating back. The fireplace was at the other end, with the sheeted shapes of two sofas either side. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. ‘Precisely. How I wish I might meet this delightful mystery lady of yours. Far too old to ask you on your first date. She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother. Let me engage myself.
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