If Ann Veronica could have put words to that song they would have been, “Hot-blooded marriage or none!” but she was far too indistinct in this matter to frame any words at all. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. “But how can you?” asked Constance. As though it was indelicate—it’s just a sort of shyness. And it's a maxim of universal application: or, at least, of universal practice. Seeing the footman about to follow her in, Gerald clamped a hand onto his shoulder. Conscience drove him to this side of the world, to this bed. Activity in the hall intensified.
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