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She had been fighting down this thought for days: that Hoddy did not care, that he did not love her, that he had mistaken a vagary of the mind for a substance, and now regretted what he had done— married a girl who was not his equal in anything. “I wondered. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. Indeed, she did not want to think of him as loving her. She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. “This is MY thing,” said Ann Veronica, softly, with thoughtful eyes upon him. “Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself. She had been obliged to wait all morning for the opportunity to talk to Martha, who chose always to retire to her cell for the period of recreation that preceded afternoon prayers. You ignore me! That’s not a good way to treat your only friend.
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