He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house. All the best novels have been written by women, and yet see how men sneer at the lady novelist still! There’s only one way to get on for a woman, and that is to please men. No one spoke, and she was impelled to flounder on. “Do you know,” she said, “that every one is remarking how ill you look. I've an idea it'll be that long before the chap gets up. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. He was always forgetting that his tummy was fifty-four years old. Sometimes the moon was totally eclipsed; at others, it shed a wan and ghastly glimmer over the masses rolling in the firmament. He comforted himself, however, with the certainty which he felt of capturing his prey on the Sunday.
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