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The Well Hole 336 XIII. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. “Well, I don’t think you told him as much as that, did you?” Lady Lescelles asked. . “I do not understand. Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. Ann Veronica’s experiences of men had been among more stable types—Teddy, who was always absurd; her father, who was always authoritative and sentimental; Manning, who was always Manning. “You let him touch you!” John whispered back.
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