But for me it doesn’t matter. No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky. It was easy enough to lie to anyone else. I think we will soon, though. “Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. Stanley wanted to object strongly, but as he could not immediately think how to put it, he contented himself with a grunt, and the motion was carried. ‘But my poor Jacques is wounded and—’ ‘All taken care of,’ interrupted Hilary. She was still fully dressed; so all she had to do was to pause before the mirror and give her hair a few pats.
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