Yet even now there were so many things untouched, so much to be learned. ‘Cousin? But I am a fool. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. Go on. It was that somebody had cheated you. “And what on earth,” he said, “do you think the world is made of? Why do you think I have been doing things for you? The abstract pleasure of goodness? Are you one of the members of that great white sisterhood that takes and does not give? The good accepting woman! Do you really suppose a girl is entitled to live at free quarters on any man she meets without giving any return?” “I thought,” said Ann Veronica, “you were my friend. Wood. Shari was snoring soundly. .
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