She began to weep in long, aching sobs. “Neither you nor I, Nigel, are made of such stuff,” she answered. She could read that Martin had a crush on her and was perhaps even going to try and challenge John as he was the bold sort. Stanley, putting his hands on the table in the manner rather of a barrister than a solicitor, and regarding her balefully through his glasses with quite undisguised animosity, asked, “And may I presume to inquire, then, what you mean to do?—how do you propose to live?” “I shall live,” sobbed Ann Veronica.
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