" "From some of your associates?" "From your uncle, from my uncle,—Sir Rowland Trenchard. You know very well that you took from my easel David Courtlaw’s study of me, and sent it to Cariolus. “Heavens!” exclaimed Ann Veronica, with extraordinary passion. He opened the door for her with a faint disagreeable smile. ‘When we met probably, and you threatened me at the first. The room was dark and dusty. That is easy. When I think of those ateliers of ours, the art jargon, the decadents with their flamboyant talk I long for a twoedged sword and a minute of Divinity. Soho! boys. Ann Veronica felt suddenly an effect of tremendous pathos; she would have given anything to have been able to frame and make some appeal, some utterance that should bridge this bottomless chasm that had opened between her and her father, and she could find nothing whatever to say that was in the least sincere and appealing.
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