"As I said before, I have little reliance upon professions of gratitude. “Oh my God, what if she’s dead?” More giggling. I felt—I felt living in a masked world. I tell you this child would have been strangled. But Spurlock was ever on guard, even when she fussed over his hair. 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. “I didn’t understand, Vee. How can you protect me? Moreover, it is stealing that you have done, and therefore—’ ‘Don’t tell me you expect me to arrest myself again. If ever I could bring myself to ask you any favour, I would ask you to forget even as I have forgotten. They clapped wildly afterward. ” “Sir John is an ass!” he declared. It was the beginning and the end of the transaction.
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