“Perhaps,” she said, “it is the London climate. “You’re very nice, both of you,” she said gently. “My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive. She looked round wildly, as if seeking some source of help, as the boots halted at the front door and the shouting intensified. Traps, set with peculiar cunning; she had encountered them everywhere. ’ ‘Will you go back there?’ asked Gerald.
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