She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp. “Let me hasten,” she said, “to reassure you. Do you see why I have hidden the terrible things from you? I chose you because you are my perfect mate. And I suppose it is too much to expect that any entirely English young lady would be prepared to tolerate me for the remainder of my life. The night was now advancing, and the party began to think of separating. Ann Veronica was not ready enough to deal with that counter-stroke. She had never had a real doll. To have written a short story in a week was rather a remarkable feat.
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