‘My dear boy, your loyalty is misplaced. ‘Jacques!’ She got no further, for Kimble came towards her, speaking fast and low. He never finished his sentence. General Lord Charvill disinherited him for his pains. “NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. . And so she came upon the word Love. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. “Close your eyes. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. ’ ‘Why should you care?’ demanded Roding, exasperated.
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