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She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. “Of course I’m manager for this expedition,” he said, after an interval of self-examination. “Nothing so base. “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. Re-issued with new cover October 2013.
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