’ ‘Pray don’t,’ begged Mrs Sindlesham, one eye on the general’s embattled features. She was as fair as the lily of the lotus. Carefully abstaining from thrusting against each other, Ann Veronica and her father began an absurdly desperate struggle, the one to open the door, the other to keep it fastened. She watched her friend rise and go towards her affianced husband, a look of mischief in her face. Nothing but the constraint of social usage now linked him to her. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult.
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