Ann Veronica watched her face, vaguely sympathizing with her, vaguely disliking her physical insufficiency and her convulsive movements, and the fine eyebrows were knit with a faint perplexity. If you forget your sex, jade, I must forget mine. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. Too damned chickenhearted to confess to me he’d run off with the woman. “I never planned it—And now I have begun—” She felt acutely that he was entitled to explanations, and as acutely that explanations were impossible that night.
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