He was wrapped in a laced roquelaure, which he threw off on his entrance into the room. “I ought to have done anything! “What’s a man for? “Friendship!” He doubled up his fist, and seemed to contemplate thrusting it through the window. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. But the restraint exercised by her instinctive delicacy was very great; over and above coarse or sexual matters it covered religion and politics and any mention of money matters or crime, and Ann Veronica found herself wondering whether these exclusions represented, after all, anything more than suppressions. It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. Here was a terrific figure gnashing his teeth, and howling like a wild beast;—there a lover, with hands clasped together and eyes turned passionately upward.
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