She decided to go on, after a momentary halt. ‘Go on, Gerald. ‘Don’t dare address me by such a title. He got up. . That day Gerald had brought her to this excessively careful house, where she had felt very much alone and very unlike herself. “It may be true, but it isn’t quite what I have in mind. That wrappered life, as you call it—we’ve burned the confounded rags! Danced out of it! We’re stark!” “Stark!” echoed Ann Veronica. One or two of the tables were occupied by groups of fat frowzy women in flat caps, with rings on their thumbs, and baskets by their sides; and no one who had listened for a single moment to their coarse language and violent abuse of each other, would require to be told they were fish-wives from Billingsgate.
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