” He said. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ agreed Gerald with a grin. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. ’ It was the Press who forced the identity upon me. Then she went in and up-stairs, hesitated on the landing, and finally, a little breathless and with an air of great dignity, opened the door and walked into Ann Veronica’s room. And, anyhow, it doesn’t matter to us. ‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint. I meant mischief.
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