He had reacted by pushing her away, disgust and frustration on his face. But oh, how weary I am! I know. . I waited for her at the back. This was David Courtlaw, whose ways, too, had never been very different from the ways of other men as regards her sex. She walked straight across to the wardrobe and opened it. Her normally shiny hair was 143 stringy and flat. She seemed honestly glad to see him. The hand which the man had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side. Neither father, aunt, nor brothers made a sign, and then one afternoon in early February her aunt came up in a state between expostulation and dignified resentment, but obviously very anxious for Ann Veronica’s welfare. “Here we are, living in the same suburb,” he began.
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