The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry. ‘Come, cry a truce. Come. But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. He forces an engagement upon her. . I shall be delighted to rescue you. Ann Veronica jumped up to get her the cardtable. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. They did not care— servant or master, it meant nothing. You’re splendid stuff, you know, but you’ve got nothing ready to sell.
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