He called a waiter. ’ Fury was in her face. “My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive. He was helpful, but gravely dubious. “I don’t see quite what your game is, Vee, but I suppose you’ve got a game on somewhere. “Why did I ever take that loan? An idiot girl in an asylum would have known better than that! “Vulgarity of soul and innocence of mind—the worst of all conceivable combinations.
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