“What made you think” he said, abruptly, with the gleam of avidity in his face, “that love makes people happy?” “I know it must. Ann Veronica watched her face, vaguely sympathizing with her, vaguely disliking her physical insufficiency and her convulsive movements, and the fine eyebrows were knit with a faint perplexity. “Yes. It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers. But why this part of the plan now seemed to her quite unattractive was a question she did not care to examine too closely. “I suppose,” said her father, “I have read at least half the novels that have been at all successful during the last twenty years. “You see, daddy, I don’t think it IS preposterous. Here's your health in a bumper, and wishing you a better husband than your first. It was finished by the end of that year, each character having asserted itself pronouncedly in my imagination. ’ She struggled.
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