Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. If he stayed in the basement apartment as was his usual habit, she would have no problem. “And what on earth,” he said, “do you think the world is made of? Why do you think I have been doing things for you? The abstract pleasure of goodness? Are you one of the members of that great white sisterhood that takes and does not give? The good accepting woman! Do you really suppose a girl is entitled to live at free quarters on any man she meets without giving any return?” “I thought,” said Ann Veronica, “you were my friend.
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