” Ann Veronica read this letter through with grave, attentive eyes. Please sit down, Miss —dear me, I haven’t asked you your name yet. I have always been lonely. “Only married a few months ago and lived out at Hampstead. The bridge was protected on either side by a railing with bannisters placed at wide intervals. “And what on earth,” he said, “do you think the world is made of? Why do you think I have been doing things for you? The abstract pleasure of goodness? Are you one of the members of that great white sisterhood that takes and does not give? The good accepting woman! Do you really suppose a girl is entitled to live at free quarters on any man she meets without giving any return?” “I thought,” said Ann Veronica, “you were my friend.
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