She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. “LOOKS all right,” said Ann Veronica, regarding him with her head first on one side and then on the other, and trying to be agreeable. It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult. She covered herself with her arms. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. ” “Then tell her to undress, confound her!” The City had been thoroughly annoying that day, and he was angry from the outset.
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