’ ‘Merci,’ she sighed and, surrendering at last to his oft-proffered aid, allowed her head to droop onto his chest. " "I will be there," answered Trenchard, gloomily. Then for the first time she was conscious of an unaccountable and terrifying sensation. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. She knew blood was rushing to his face and other places as well. Even there a woman never gets a fair chance. But I don’t wish to hear that abomination on her lips again. “You said you were in love with me,” said Ann Veronica; “I wanted to explain —” “I said I loved and wanted you. The will to live had returned. She was glad when he went on: “I want to be your city of refuge from every sort of bother. “Perhaps,” she said, “it is the London climate.
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