To shore up a business that never had any foundation, he wanted me to lend him a hundred thousand; and for his sake as well as for mine I had to refuse. No, not one little bit. Rollo barked. And as he walked by her side they began a wrangle that was none the less pleasant to Ann Veronica because it served to banish a disagreeable preoccupation. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. “No, no,” she cried. It will hold aloof, a little undecided whether to pelt or not—” “That depends whether we carry ourselves as though we expected pelting,” said Ann Veronica. None of the things they said and did were altogether new to Ann Veronica, but now she got them massed and alive, instead of by glimpses or in books—alive and articulate and insistent.
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