" "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. ’ ‘I have no game. His kind eyes were puffy with fatigue. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. Tell him about the island, the coconut dance, the wooden tom-toms; read to him. “I’ve heard some even more entertaining news from the Orchestra grapevine too. ” “You are not going to that ball! You are not going out of this house in that getup!” Ann Veronica tried yet more earnestly to treat him, as she would treat any man, with an insistence upon her due of masculine respect.
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