Part 2 Ann Veronica Stanley was twenty-one and a half years old. He had saluted her with elaborate civility, his eyes distended with indecipherable meanings. And then, as she answered nothing, “Seeing that we are lovers. ’ ‘I didn’t say I did not enjoy it,’ Gerald protested. It was like pouring a strong acid over dulled metal. He had been frozen in time at age forty-two. You are the most beautiful, the most desirable thing I have ever met in this world. I see now that you make a game with me indeed. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. That's the kind, my friend, that always fall soft.
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