I am sorry, but you have spoilt me. He sat up in his chair as though the question had stung him. His most eager inquiries and most lavish bribes could gain no further information than that she had left for England, and that her address was—London. She clasped her hands over her mouth in a silent scream. “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. ‘Never fear, my love.
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