There was also a curious interview at a big hotel with a middle-aged, white-powdered woman, all covered with jewels and reeking of scent, who wanted a Companion. Had Gosse taken it as he escaped? What could she do? Gosse now knew that she was the daughter of Mary Remenham. Nigel! You have not forgotten. ‘Come, come, ma’am,’ he said smiling. But she did not talk readily, and in order to say something she plunged a little, and felt she plunged. It was partly to pay a grudge he had against father. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, after a long interval, “if they are absurd. You see me here, an admitted failure in the object to which I have devoted two years of my life. Miss Miniver thought that there was no true sincerity except in love, and appealed to Ann Veronica, but the young man in the orange tie went on to declare that it was quite possible to be sincerely in love with two people at the same time, although perhaps on different planes with each individual, and deceiving them both. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. Living’s just material.
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