But—It’s just this: who was to be hurt?” “I wish no one had to be hurt,” said Ann Veronica. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. This whole affair is truly my fault. I might have known it. “Quite on my own,” she said. No matter what the fire and force of his passion, it falters eventually, and forever after smoulders or goes out. Yet every now and then, during the progress of the meal, his attention apparently wandered, and leaning forward he glanced covertly at Anna with a curious mixture of expressions on his face.
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