” “This,” Anna declared, as she sipped her wine and looked around her, “reminds me more of Paris than any place I have yet seen. He had had five children at irregular intervals, of whom Ann Veronica was the youngest, so that as a parent he came to her perhaps a little practised and jaded and inattentive; and he called her his “little Vee,” and patted her unexpectedly and disconcertingly, and treated her promiscuously as of any age between eleven and eight-and-twenty. Sated, he rolled off her body and retired to his quarters. Her anger parlayed with her confusion, as she realized that the new marriage was about as optional as the first one and her hunger was growing inside her like a weed. For a time Ann Veronica went on her way gauging the quality of sordid streets.
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