She sat very still, and his eyes rested on that ornament for a moment, and then travelled slowly to her wrist and the soft lines of her forearm. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing. ’ She seemed to recollect herself suddenly. Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. I don’t see any good in life if it hasn’t got you in it. " "What!" she exclaimed, staring eagerly in his face. She knew the truth of it all right.
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