“And what is it all about, Veronica?” he asked, with a deliberate note of irony, looking at her a little quizzically over his glasses. Nothing else was put in their place, and they remained sotto voce, as it were, in his mind. They went to the Zoological Gardens together one Saturday to see for themselves a point of morphological interest about the toucan’s bill—that friendly and entertaining bird—and they spent the rest of the afternoon walking about and elaborating in general terms this theme and the superiority of intellectual fellowship to all merely passionate relationships. His demeanour then was sober enough to lend colour to that belief. He was a tall man and fair, with bluish eyes that were rather protuberant, and long white hands of which he made a display. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. I can't run in these heavy fetters.
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