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“Oh, Veronica!” she said, “to leave your home!” She had been weeping. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. Now you haven’t the ghost of one—not if you play the game fair. ‘And since the entire company and Pottiswick himself were unable to find hide nor hair of the infernal French female—’ ‘English, Hilary,’ Gerald reminded him. He contrasted the lot of women in general with the lot of men, presented men as patient, self-immolating martyrs, and women as the pampered favorites of Nature. He’s out in Phoenix last I heard. ’ Mrs Chalkney lifted her brows. She is no longer mine; she is yours. His lips parted in a rare smile. “I don’t mind, of course, your seeing her sometimes, still there are differences— differences in social atmospheres. I’ll be waiting for you outside. She kissed him on the bridge of his nose.
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