She entered and approached the bunk. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. Ann Veronica sat back in an attitude of inattention, her eyes on a distant game of cricket, her mind perplexed and busy. She stared. “I suppose I ought to congratulate you,” he said. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. I shall now be able to test my skill. But it wasn’t the harassment that bothered her. The significance of the kiss was still obscure to her, though she had frequently encountered the word and act in the Old and New Testaments and latterly in novels. Confidence in himself would strengthen him.
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