Who's the lucky boy, Lucy?\" Lucy looked at her slippered feet. "That's fine," said O'Higgins. “Are you aware, Ann Veronica, you nearly throttled that gentleman?” Then she reviled her own foolish way of putting it. A young man was playing the banjo. “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. Afterwards, it may be different. Her relationship with John had made her the object of desire for scores of teenage boys who had dared not previously think of her in such a way. ” Anna smiled very faintly. "I don't see how I can improve it.
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