Part 2 She found the younger generation of the Widgetts engaged in languid reminiscences, and all, as they expressed it, a “bit decayed. “But how can you?” asked Constance. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. He did not stagger in the least. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. “No,” said Ann Veronica, “but I want to know. “I’ve got—I have to tell you this to make myself clear—a streak of ardent animal in my composition. Each time also we quarrel, and even if you are laughing very much, you become angry.
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