Indeed, almost insensibly Ann Veronica became habituated to the peculiar appearance and the peculiar manners of the people “in the van. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. He was in great pain and it meant that he would be in casts for twelve weeks. Even WITH the Censorship of Plays there’s hardly a decent thing to which a man can take his wife and daughters, a creeping taint of suggestion everywhere. “Damn!” said Ann Veronica to herself, rousing herself for a conflict. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. . . The old woman told him she had no such article to dispose of, but recommended him to a neighbouring blacksmith.
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