After dinner Ann Veronica went into the drawing-room with Miss Stanley, and her father went up to his den for his pipe and pensive petrography. 167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. All at once her heart began to patter queerly. “One would think I had said nothing about the matter. Why? What is she to you?” “I was there by accident,” Ennison answered. Possessed, at one time, of a share in the South Sea stock, he conceived himself worth twenty thousand pounds. Rows of roasted duck, brilliantly varnished; luscious vegetables, which she had been warned against; baskets of melon seed and water-chestnuts; men working in teak and blackwood; fan makers and jade cutters; eggs preserved in what appeared to her as petrified muck; bird's nests and shark fins. ‘She knows what she’s up against. Escape was now impossible. But heavens, I must pack!” She sprang to her feet and disappeared in the room beyond, from which she emerged a few minutes later with flushed cheeks and dishevelled hair. “It was your own fault,” she exclaimed. ‘You can’t prove nothing.
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