“Then what did you do?” Lucy’s eyes leveled with her. “We are not the sort that goes under,” said Ann Veronica, holding her hands so that the red reflections vanished from her eyes. “No. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. I am not afraid that you may try to make love to me. Horrid!’ ‘Yes, but it has been extremely useful for me,’ argued Melusine, ‘so that I am very much pleased with this passage. “But who’s going to pay for the room?” “I’ve got money,” said Ann Veronica. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. “I don’t have time for this.
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