The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica. I want to give you time to think. Groups of boys took to ogling her as she walked frenetically from class to class. The horror of those few minutes was still with her. “It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy. "What's the matter?" demanded Jonathan, harshly. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. Couldn’t make head nor tail of that note of yours. Fifteen from forty is twenty-five. ’ Mrs Sindlesham laughed lightly, but her eyes quizzed him.
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