Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified. Wood strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying skiff. "Flying fish. I’m rather scornful. I won't keep you long. Strangers look in and long, and neighbours are moved to envy. Impassive by nature and training, he was conscious to-night of a strange sense of excitement, of exhilaration tempered by a dull background of disappointment. ‘Truth is, it’s Gerald who’s put me in the devil’s own temper, ma’am. Naturally you shout yourself hoarse when she has finished, and feel jolly pleased with yourself.
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