He had shaved his side-whiskers and come over in flannels, but he was still indisputably the same person who had attended Ann Veronica for the measles and when she swallowed the fish-bone. I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing. She wanted to return his gaze but focused intently on a spot next to and above the brick fireplace, as her music teachers had always taught her to do instead of looking directly at the audience. “Whither away?” he said, very distinctly in a curiously wheedling voice. Men are always doing it, and if you set up to be a man—” “No, it’s absolutely out of the question, Mr.
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