"I know not—and care not," replied Jack. He flung aside all his talk of help and disinterested friendship as though it had never been even a disguise between them, as though from the first it was no more than a fancy dress they had put quite understandingly upon their relationship. He seemed to do ten things before she could think to do one, to leap upon her and take possession. One went in for painting, kept straight and married old Ferringhall a week or so ago—the Lord help her. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. "You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door. He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. There was a girlfriend who was mentally ill. She found she could do her microscope work all the better for being in love. You understand that term?” Ann Veronica smiled faintly. “But all the rest of our case is right.
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