Ann Veronica pushed aside a tea-cup and the vestiges of her strawberries and cream, and put her elbows before her on the table. "I knew how it would be," she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, "when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat into the house. “Why didn’t you come back? Lucy, I needed you to come back, just once. “Let us go to that little place at the back of the Palace. ’ ‘Do not make a game with me,’ she interrupted, gripping her underlip firmly between her teeth to stop the threatening laughter. "I can readily see," he said, "why you'll always be as poor as a church mouse. Do you know, Annabel, that you are my wife. She plucked at the knots of her racket and heard him to the end, then spoke in a restrained undertone. She had come to the end of her resources. Hitherto it had been qualified by her conception of all life as a compromise, by her new effort to be unexacting of life.
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