‘Because she, naturally enough, does not consider that it is in any way my affair. ” He read it in winter in the evening after dinner, and Ann Veronica associated it with a tendency to monopolize the lamp, and to spread a very worn pair of dappled fawn-skin slippers across the fender. To wait for hours and hours for the night! The sea empty for days! You forgot the monotony, the endless monotony, that bends you and breaks you and crushes you—you forgot that!" Her voice had steadily risen until it was charged with passionate anger. Curiosity held her by one hand, urging her to recklessness, and caution held her by the other. So, while she watched, distressed and bewildered by her tumbling thoughts, the packet, Canton bound, ruffled the placid waters of the Pearl River. She looked down tassels of his shiny shoes with a scowl. Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face.
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