"I told you that before," rejoined Wood, testily. And Miss Miniver began to sway her. “Yet it is my last evening, and I think —if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it. My friend, I am only grieved that you of all others should have been so deceived. She drove me. And what on earth do you want to darken your eyebrows and use so much make-up for at your age? You’re exactly twenty-three, and you’re got up as much as a woman of forty-five. Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified. For was not Gerald a gentleman? An Englishman, whose services any female—excluding her own self so idiote— would be very happy to have. She answered in whispers, for there was the white arm of a woman in the next box peeping beyond the partition within a yard of him. She loped forward on unnaturally long legs and arms that swung loosely.
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