The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him. Ann Veronica passed from her aunt to her father, and put her arms about him and kissed his cheek. Ann Veronica, with a sigh at the cost of hospitality, made a hasty negotiation for an extra tea and for a fire in the groundfloor apartment, and preened herself carefully for the interview. For the first time, perhaps, in his life, he repented of his brutality. ‘She is constantly thinking of you,’ I said. “You seem to forget that my sister is—married. That is not reasonable.
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