“I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. "You frighten the cull out of his senses. But seriously, things are not so bad as you think. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. I fancy that Sir John does not approve of me. “Look here, Ann Veronica,” he began. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. He was nearly wincing. ” Capes looked at his wife’s unsmiling face. 195 < 24 > A CITY IN GREECE, 589 B. “Do you understand what I am talking about? It’s no good if you don’t.
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