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‘Aye, sir. Ann Veronica’s experiences of men had been among more stable types—Teddy, who was always absurd; her father, who was always authoritative and sentimental; Manning, who was always Manning. He strangled the infant, which slipped out of his hands and screamed. He drew both his pistols, and prepared for a desperate encounter. He spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire. The dance itself was anticlimactic, with teenagers trying their best to look the part of adult sophisticates on the dance floor. I was Annabel the rake, ‘Alcide’ of the music halls. Before I met you I never met any one whom I felt I could love, but you have discovered depths in my own nature I had scarcely suspected. I’m not that sort I quite agree.
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