” “Teddy,” said Ann Veronica, “you’re a dear!” “Oh, quite!” said Teddy, convulsively, and lifted an imaginary hat and left her. Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred. She felt the bedsprings coil as he moved from his seated position, entranced. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. “A woman wants a proper alliance with a man, a man who is better stuff than herself. She posed herself before her mirror and surveyed herself with gravely thoughtful, gravely critical, and yet admiring eyes. But all of that was forgotten.
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