” Anna drew out her purse at once. A sinister thought edged in. ” “Couldn’t I make a treaty?” Ann Veronica thought, and could not see any possible treaty that would leave it open for her to have quasi-surreptitious dinners with Ramage or go on walking round the London squares discussing Socialism with Miss Miniver toward the small hours. ‘Marry an Englishman! Which Englishman?’ Melusine shrugged. “I cannot but conclude,” he said, “that your errand involved the recital to my wife of some trouble in which you find yourself. She didn’t like the shops, she didn’t like the other women’s faces; she thought the smirking men in frock-coats who dominated these establishments the most intolerable persons she had ever had to face. She could hear their footsteps upon the pavement.
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