“Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself. He said that his life was boring and stupid without her. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. I wish to prevent a repetition of any such errand as I presume you have come here upon this evening. In a moment he was beside her. But you need not fear,’ she added, shaking him off. This done, he let himself carefully down by it, and having only a few feet to drop, alighted in safety. Men ought not to idealize any woman. “I don’t love him,” said Ann Veronica, getting a gleam.
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