But she disapproved more and more of her own mental austerity. “I do wish you and your father could come to some agreement. “If it’s about that dance project,” he said, “it’s no good, Veronica. “I will have your true reason. “And all the rest of it perhaps is a song. CHAPTER XXI. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. “Forgive you, indeed. At the same time,” she added, in a suddenly altered tone, “it isn’t anything whatever to do with you, is it?” “Why not?” he answered. Panting with effort, she held her point menacingly at Gosse’s chest. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application.
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