Ann Veronica stared for a moment in amazement at this dark-green object that clashed as it was put down. He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. The splendid voices sang on from phase to phase of love’s unfolding, the ship drove across the sea to the beating rhythm of the rowers. "Well," she said, in reply, "I may have done Jack an injustice. He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout. It isn’t sentiment but it’s horse sense.
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