Ann Veronica found herself in a little stirring crowd of excited women, whispering and tittering and speaking in undertones. One who—who—tres. 70 <9> A MARRIAGE, PART II She dreamt of the inn they had stopped at after her suicide attempt, the flea-ridden hostel her husband had angrily toted her to after the incident at the country house. The ruffian's companions took his part. ‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir. Or did he? Perhaps he had found another. Their expression was so amiable, that it would have redeemed a countenance a thousand times plainer than hers. Bah. Perhaps I ought to have let you order the dinner, but I think I got through it pretty well. ’ She frowned suddenly.
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