Wood, who were, furthermore, engaged in a little conjugal tête-à-tête of their own. “Well, I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. He breathed a little sigh of satisfaction. “Veronique!” she cried with a rising intonation, though never before had she called Ann Veronica anything but Miss Stanley, and seized her and squeezed her and kissed her with profound emotion. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters. ’ ‘Yes, she duped me finely,’ agreed Gerald. Don’t leave me.
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