He allowed his voice to drip with sympathy. The stores, the drying bins, McClintock's bungalows and the native huts sprawled around an exquisite landlocked lagoon. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. “It’s no sort of good, Ann Veronica, pretending one does believe when one doesn’t. There’s something—puppyish in a man’s usual attitude to women. When she had finished the first tale, there was a sense of disappointment. Gianfrancesco became agitated. One or the other. I did not know how he would act if I obstructed him. He was heartily thankful for it. She described the Goopes and the Fabians to him, and gave him a sketch of her landlady; and he talked in the most liberal and entertaining way of a modern young woman’s outlook.
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