“Your mother was a Gypsy. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. To that, perhaps, a large part of its satisfyingness was due. The City worried him a good deal, and what energy he had left over he spent partly in golf, a game he treated very seriously, and partly in the practices of microscopic petrography. “I am sure,” she said, “that you mean to stay until you are turned out. ” Ann Veronica hesitated, and then stood in the open doorway and regarded her father’s stern presence. One side of the face was white with foamy lather and the other ruddy-cheeked and blue-jawed. ‘We will converse in your own tongue,’ he said in French as he led her away. She helped Jack to sit down, and dragged the jacket off him, lifting his shirt to expose the gash that had sliced across his side. Wood heard the cry.
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