” “Act two,” she continued. ” Ann Veronica sat at the foot of the sufferer’s bed, while Teddy Widgett, being something of an athlete, occupied the only bed-room chair—a decadent piece, essentially a tripod and largely a formality—and smoked cigarettes, and tried to conceal the fact that he was looking all the time at Ann Veronica’s eyebrows. She was quite assured that she would never see him again. “Only you are the woman I love, and you are in trouble. ‘And she’s—’ She broke off, a sudden light in her eyes. ‘You said?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham, your great-aunt, miss. I found him lying like this, the bleeding partly stopped by this scarf, else he had been dead by now. Sheppard, clasping him with a hand that burnt with fever, "I have been ill—dreadfully ill—I believe delirious—I thought I should have died last night—I won't tell you what agony you have caused me—I won't reproach you. . They drove around town that night in his Buick convertible. And it is your own fault that your husband dallies with me. The less said, therefore, on this point the better; because, as nothing is to be gained by it, it would only be trouble thrown away. Shamefaced curiosities began to come back into her mind, thinly disguised as literature and art.
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