She met his eyes for a moment, and could not interpret their expression. “You delicate female!” “Who cares,” said Ann Veronica, “seeing it’s you? Warm, soft little wonders! Of course I want them. The remainder of dinner was surreal and stilted. One of the reasons why I decline to talk is this: that boy's punishment will be enough. There was a little pain, but it wasn’t anything. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere.
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