That’s— that’s my private life. It was just a shabby, stupid, furtive business that began between us. ” Ann Veronica was about to reply, when he went on, with a still more deadly quiet: “I am not here to bandy words with you. Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph. My business is with Lady Trafford. She was suddenly grave. She hugged Lucy, who had finished eating. On the one hand, she seemed to think plainly and simply, and would talk serenely and freely about topics that most women have been trained either to avoid or conceal; and on the other she was unconscious, or else she had an air of being unconscious—that was the riddle—to all sorts of personal applications that almost any girl or woman, one might have thought, would have made.
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