“I cannot say who he is,” said Ann Veronica, “but he is a married man. Ann Veronica stared for a moment in amazement at this dark-green object that clashed as it was put down. It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. “It may not be just and so forth, but, after all, it is how things are. He will have it that I’ve taken leave of my senses. Burn your palette and your easel. Then he went back to his rooms and lit a cigar.
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