“Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. He could neither stifle nor deaden that. Usually his charges bored him with their interrogative chatter, for he knew that his information more often than not went into one ear and out of the other. He was unusually absurd and ready, and all the time it seemed to Ann Veronica as a delightful possibility, as a thing not indeed to be entertained seriously, but to be half furtively felt, that he was being so agreeable because she had come back again. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. He grunted a little with effort, and she realised the gilt frame must be heavy.
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