” “Problems?” “Sometimes quite difficult problems. ” “I will wait,” said Ann Veronica, still not looking at him, “and we will go into Regent’s Park. He never seemed to take full advantage while they were in his mammoth automobile. In Europe or in America people would have smiled; but in Singapore—the half-way port of the world—where a human kaleidoscope tumbles continuously east and west, no one had remarked her. It was apparent, and then it faded into the quality of an inevitable necessity. Ann Veronica had come down thinking of nothing in the world but her inflexible resolution to go to the dance in the teeth of all opposition. Then they rode off at speed. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. That was what she was trying to make him understand. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat.
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