I can’t stand it. " "How so?" asked the other, distrustfully. He was always forgetting that his tummy was fifty-four years old. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. "Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. Are you going to have any apple-tart, Stanley? The apple-tart’s been very good lately—very good!” Part 7 At the end of dinner that evening Ann Veronica began: “Father!” Her father looked at her over his glasses and spoke with grave deliberation; “If there is anything you want to say to me,” he said, “you must say it in the study.
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