“Beautiful these autumn flowers are,” said Ann Veronica, in a wide, uncomfortable pause. She saw herself building up a life upon that —a life restrained, kindly, beautiful, a little pathetic and altogether dignified; a life of great disciplines and suppressions and extensive reserves. "But we must be getting along if we are to lunch in the tower of the water-clock. I’m leaving you, and you can’t stop me. . “Oh, I am lonely,” she moaned. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. Her unnatural calm was giving way.
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