He had removed his silk hat, and now sat looking at Ann Veronica over an untouched cup of tea; he sat gloating upon her, trying to catch her eye. He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. She exhorted Ann Veronica not to become one of “those unsexed intellectuals, neither man nor woman. I’ve had it, Sheila. “You—appear to know my name, sir,” Sir John said. “Ye Gods!” she said at last.
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