She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour. Wood was not particularly fortunate in his own matrimonial connections. So the talk went on, and presently they were criticising novelists, and certain daring essays of Wilkins got their due share of attention, and then they were discussing the future of the theatre. He wisely refrained from questioning the manager of the Victoria. His face was white. It was not possible. If Ann Veronica could have put words to that song they would have been, “Hot-blooded marriage or none!” but she was far too indistinct in this matter to frame any words at all. Jonathan gave utterance to a low whistle. Besides—there is Sir John.
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