Ann Veronica pushed aside a tea-cup and the vestiges of her strawberries and cream, and put her elbows before her on the table. They were talking of “Alcide,” as they often did in those days. The crown has passed from the brow of one monarch to that of another. The rich, heavy food sat in her stomach like so many soft pebbles. “You know nothing about the stage. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. That would not help her. You must wait till supper's over. I've left mine on the spikes of the New Prison, and must borrow yours. Over here men drink because they are lonely; and when they drink too hard and too long, they wind up on the beach.
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