” He went to the window and fidgeted with the blind, looking out to where the tree-tops of Regent’s Park showed distantly over the houses. It had thrust her back with an undignified scuffle, with vulgar comedy, with an unendurable, scornful grin. Either Sydney or Mr. Cathy and Shari toiled over boiling pots of potatoes, candied sweet potatoes with orange rind, corn casserole, and almond green beans. Her roving eagerness was at all times shaded with shyness, reserve, repression. And yet for all that— It got into Ann Veronica’s nights at last and kept her awake, the perplexing contrast between the advanced thought and the advanced thinker. Let me go my own way towards them.
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