Nothing at all. . She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred. “I wonder if they will seem altered,” she remarked for the third time. Ann Veronica, with a sigh at the cost of hospitality, made a hasty negotiation for an extra tea and for a fire in the groundfloor apartment, and preened herself carefully for the interview. He was always doing his best to call her attention to the fact that he was a man of spirit and quality and experience, and she a young and beautiful woman, and that all sorts of constructions upon their relationship were possible, trusting her to go on from that to the idea that all sorts of relationships were possible. He hated the taste of it.
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