“Let go!” said Ann Veronica, through her teeth, strenuously inflicting agony, and he cried out sharply and let go and receded a pace. But there was no sign from her. I wonder,” he added, after a moment’s pause, “whether you ever realize how young you are. “But—” The long inconsecutive conversation by that time was getting on her nerves. It happened that at the extremest point of Ann Veronica’s social circle from the Widgetts was the family of the Morningside Park horsedealer, a company of extremely dressy and hilarious young women, with one equestrian brother addicted to fancy waistcoats, cigars, and facial spots. She regarded him coldly, as though wondering whether he had anything further to say. It was only a few months ago that I told you you must come to London, and you only laughed at me. 192 Her skirt had ridden almost to her hips.
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