“Ann Veronica,” he said. “The truth!” It was a moment of awkwardness between the two sisters —a moment, too, charged with its own psychological interest, for there were secrets between them which for many months had made their intercourse a constrained and difficult thing. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. But I never found any truth in the saying. And were you to load me with thrice the weight of iron you have ordered you should not prevent my escaping a third time. If I offered you half of my possessions, you'd doubtless wallop me on the jaw.
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