The women, Ann Veronica thought, were not quite so interesting as the men. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. He closed the door. ‘You are there. ’ He frowned again. “Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. ‘And I’ll say it as often as I choose, you confounded impertinent wench! Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m your grandfather, girl. Her face expressed nothing. And I want him out of uniform. “Well, hello there. It had thrust her back with an undignified scuffle, with vulgar comedy, with an unendurable, scornful grin.
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