Stanley, putting his hands on the table in the manner rather of a barrister than a solicitor, and regarding her balefully through his glasses with quite undisguised animosity, asked, “And may I presume to inquire, then, what you mean to do?—how do you propose to live?” “I shall live,” sobbed Ann Veronica. And this is not France, you understand. She began to exercise those lures which were bred in her bone—the bones of all women. The doctor drew out the contents hopefully. Her face reminded him of a delicate unglazed porcelain cup, filled with blond wine. But Jack was too nimble for him. She uncrossed her legs and lowered herself, carefully and slowly, until she lay supine. What had she so nearly said? She had almost spoken a name—and quickly withdrawn it. To fall upon those tales for the first time, when the mind was fresh and the heart was young! He became aware of an odd phase to this conversation.
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