He was not a sailor. Part 6 When Ann Veronica reached her little bed-sitting-room again, every nerve in her body was quivering with shame and self-disgust. That's slang, meaning you're splendid. . “Cheer up, Annabel. He was suddenly calm. He stood transfixed. I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's 'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. All at once it came to him what a fool he was to worry over this phase which was wholly suppositional.
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