And yet for all that— It got into Ann Veronica’s nights at last and kept her awake, the perplexing contrast between the advanced thought and the advanced thinker. One particularly humiliating thing came out— humiliating for me. Her knees shook, her breath came fast, she almost felt the lurid effect of those tiny patches of rouge upon her pallor-stricken cheeks. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left.
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