Ann Veronica, with a sigh at the cost of hospitality, made a hasty negotiation for an extra tea and for a fire in the groundfloor apartment, and preened herself carefully for the interview. But it’s only now I’m able to do it. I believed that our marriage was genuine. It was a refusal of expediency, he said, and not an absolute refusal. "Forgive—forgive me!" "I have nothing to forgive," replied Mrs. Sheppard, shuddering violently. Then began expostulations, preluded by a telegram and headed by her aunt. Rousing himself, he went to the door.
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