Blood dripped down one side of her forehead. “Oh, Ann Veronica!” he cried, “I cannot let you go like this! You don’t understand. ’ ‘What? But—’ ‘Precisely, Hilary. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. ‘God loves you, even if your father didn’t. “Quite right,” she said. She knew that babies came from the womb; her womb had fallen out with her baby. Simply because they are hardened by—by bestiality, and poisoned by the juices of meat slain in anger and fermented drinks—fancy! drinks that have been swarmed in by thousands and thousands of horrible little bacteria!” “It’s yeast,” said Ann Veronica—“a vegetable. Then she passed from the room on the arm of General Lord Charvill, chatting animatedly to him.
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