“And if she can’t have the right one? “We’ve developed such a quality of preference!” She rubbed her knuckles into her forehead. We had such a pride in you, such hope in you. ” Anna laughed outright. Some one had once, in his hearing, called him a prig. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. A woman has a perfect right to choose her own husband, but Nigel seemed to think that there was something a little mysterious about your treatment of him. He rose, steadied himself, then walked out of the dining room. She felt that Ann Veronica had duped her in that dream, and now that she had come up to London she might as well speak her mind.
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