His shoulders relaxed and his gaze wavered. She battled with a deadly faintness, and she tottered rather than walked back to her seat. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. Ann Veronica pushed aside a tea-cup and the vestiges of her strawberries and cream, and put her elbows before her on the table. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. “Can you give me any information as to this affair?” he asked.
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