"Well, what can you expect, guzzling poison like that? Are you returning with us to Hong-Kong in the morning?" "No. Why ever did you let me get into that wagonette?” “I thought we had to,” said Ann Veronica, who had also been a little under the compulsion of the marshals of the occasion. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. “I suppose,” said her father, “I have read at least half the novels that have been at all successful during the last twenty years.
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