That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap. “If you say so, my pet. Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. " "Fill your glasses, gentlemen," observed Ireton, "and I'll tell you a droll thing Jack said this morning. But don’t run away with the idea that I’m hanging out for a wife at last, because I’m not. It is abominable—” “What is the use of keeping up this note of indignation, Ann Veronica? Here I am! I am your lover, burning for you.
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