Manning, abruptly. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. Then a surge of rage welled up. We made sure it was just like Gwen. “All right so far,” she said to herself. “There,” he said, “you don’t treat me fairly, Miss Stanley. Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. Neither father, aunt, nor brothers made a sign, and then one afternoon in early February her aunt came up in a state between expostulation and dignified resentment, but obviously very anxious for Ann Veronica’s welfare. ’ ‘Like your father,’ Gerald put in deliberately. Advancing to the middle of the chamber, he halted, drew himself up, and fixed his dark, expressive eyes, on Thames Darrell.
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