. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. I say, I'll take the yarn over and read it to McClintock. He tried again. “I don’t think you realize,” Ann Veronica began again, “that I am rather a defective human being. ’” “Yes?” “I think—yes, I went on in a pleasing blend of the casual and sotto voce, ‘The fact of it is, sir, I happen to be your son-in-law, Capes. ’ ‘Oh, that tragic pair,’ uttered her ladyship in saddened tones. But now Ann Veronica knew what was the matter with her. And, setting down the link, he proceeded deliberately to untie his cravat. Morals only begin when that is settled. "Raise your vice, and lave off coughin'," added Terence.
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