“I don’t know,” said Ann Veronica; “I think I am. She followed him about persistently, and succeeded, after a brisk, unchivalrous struggle (in which he pinched and asked her to “cheese it”), in kissing him among the raspberries behind the greenhouse. ’ ‘But you must,’ Gerald said, quite as if he meant it. After a long fifteen seconds, she pulled her head back into the seat, looking at his face from the close angle, his nose huge and out of perspective, his eyes like round blue pearls. And, decently as he could, McClintock was giving the man the boot. "I should think so," responded the lethargic turnkey, with a yawn. Just this? Parbleu, did he think this was enough? She did not wish to marry him—at least, not just because he was an Englishman.
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