It was one of the most educational disillusionments in Ann Veronica’s career. The girl’s eyes never left his face. ‘She?’ ‘Damnation!’ He saw her frown, and added at once, ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am. Never sent for the shirt. When Jack entered the cell, she was talking to herself in the muttering unconnected way peculiar to her distracted condition; but, after her eye had rested on him some time, the fixed expression of her features relaxed, and a smile crossed them. “Can’t stop, thanks,” he answered. She doesn't love you; she hasn't the least idea what it means beyond what she has read in novels. " "Well, well, since you desire it, I'll say no more," returned Wood.
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