It was horrible, but what could she do? She meant to live her own life, and he meant, with contempt and insults, to prevent her. If you want me, you know where to find me. What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest. Her mouth dry, she made her feet walk on, not daring to utter a word. Ann Veronica brought her luggage in a cab from the hotel; she tipped the hotel porter sixpence and overpaid the cabman eighteenpence, unpacked some of her books and possessions, and so made the room a little homelike, and then sat down in a by no means uncomfortable arm-chair before the fire. Ann Veronica liked their relationship all the more because it was an unusual one. Twenty guineas, mind. Most of their relics are in yonder cases; but I don't remember that any of them have disturbed my rest.
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