“It is strange that we should have met Annabel,” she said. Ann Veronica was one of the few young people—and one must have young people just as one must have flowers—one could ask to a little gathering without the risk of a painful discord. It was true. Talked about his years, his position and his constituents, and always sneaked off back to his hotel just when the fun was going to begin. There was a gallows erected, and a great mob round it—thousands of people, and all with white faces like corpses. One thing—he could be thankful for that—the peak of his misfortunes had been reached; the world might come to an end now and not matter in the least. "I'm a peace-officer," he added, "about to arrest a notorious criminal. ” She lingered over her tea, and glancing around, a sudden reflection on the change in her surroundings from the scene of her last night’s supper brought a faint, humorous smile to her lips. "I mean to have no one but yourself in it. Ann Veronica found herself in the presence of the most disconcerting fact in human experience, the kindliness of people you believe to be thoroughly wrong.
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