She sat down awkwardly and helplessly on one of the little stools by her table and covered her face with her hands. "Are you his ghost, then?" "No—no," answered Jack. “And what on earth,” he said, “do you think the world is made of? Why do you think I have been doing things for you? The abstract pleasure of goodness? Are you one of the members of that great white sisterhood that takes and does not give? The good accepting woman! Do you really suppose a girl is entitled to live at free quarters on any man she meets without giving any return?” “I thought,” said Ann Veronica, “you were my friend. After all, she only LOOKED a woman. 167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. She went to the table under the end window at which she had been accustomed to work, and found it swept and garnished with full bottles of re-agents.
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