Yet every now and then, during the progress of the meal, his attention apparently wandered, and leaning forward he glanced covertly at Anna with a curious mixture of expressions on his face. “And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. This lover of yours—” “He doesn’t know!” cried Ann Veronica. Answering him was agonizing. "He called me a wanton, Hoddy. “You silly fool,” he said. He spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire.
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