Some part of the stiff vigour of the man seemed to have subsided. She saw its depraved eyes, but worse were the glittering teeth as it smiled. Gerald lost his head. A dry cough's the trumpeter of death. She felt the bedsprings coil as he moved from his seated position, entranced. “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.
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