” Anna hesitated no longer. I was Annabel the rake, ‘Alcide’ of the music halls. Her family are solid West End people, Kensington people. Instead, he was bowing to her greataunt. And me, I wish to know why you have seen him. “Look here, daddy,” she said, in a tone of great reasonableness, “I MUST go to that dance, you know. ‘I don’t think he deserved that, Melusine. ’ He called through the library door. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth.
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