Ann Veronica’s experiences of men had been among more stable types—Teddy, who was always absurd; her father, who was always authoritative and sentimental; Manning, who was always Manning. ‘Where did you get that, miss?’ ‘It is the sword of monsieur le major. Hardened as he may be, that would touch him. It is not you who runs the risk of going dinnerless to-morrow. His kind eyes were puffy with fatigue. He hated himself a little for it. Nevertheless, Sir John had the look of a man who was enjoying himself. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton.
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