She shut her lips hard, her jaw hardened, and she set herself to struggle with him. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. His five o’clock shadow was bristly against her fingers. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. ‘Do you need an excuse?’ ‘Oh, you know what doctors are.
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