After all, that was life. Ann Veronica was one of the few young people—and one must have young people just as one must have flowers—one could ask to a little gathering without the risk of a painful discord. I came to beg you instead to do me the honour of becoming my wife. It was a shame that they had made such a fuss, she thought as he arrived. But the young man with the orange tie remained in his place, disputing whether the body had not something or other which he called its legitimate claims. He sat on the bed, throwing aside his hat. Never had she seemed to him so much like Anna. “We have come too close together for me to believe it. She was trembling a little. “Why on earth,” he asked, “did you hurt me like that?” Ann Veronica did her best to think she had not deliberately attempted to cause him pain.
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