Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. ‘Can you not open it?’ she cried. At first Spurlock tasted coconut in his eggs, in what meat he ate; it permeated everything, taste and smell. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. She was in ill trim for walking, but somehow or other she made her way as far as the Champs Elysées, and sank down upon an empty seat. ’ ‘Damnation!’ ‘What the devil ails you?’ demanded his friend, striding forward. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. No tricks would serve. Ann Veronica had got quite interested in Mr.
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