Ann Veronica pushed aside a tea-cup and the vestiges of her strawberries and cream, and put her elbows before her on the table. Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. Even there a woman never gets a fair chance. She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing. ’ ‘And me,’ came the guttural response, ‘I will certainly murder you the very next time I am compelled to see your face. In a tall glass the rind of a Syrian orange was arranged in spiral form.
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