Ann Veronica watched her face, vaguely sympathizing with her, vaguely disliking her physical insufficiency and her convulsive movements, and the fine eyebrows were knit with a faint perplexity. “When you married me——” Her little hand flashed out across the table. Their eyes met, and his expressed perplexity and curiosity. These sisters moved in a grown-up world inaccessible to Ann Veronica’s sympathies, and to a large extent remote from her curiosity. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. He looked the boy over with interest. All through the night an entirely impossible and monumental Capes confronted her, and she argued with him about men and women.
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