They entered a hansom and turned on to the Embankment. “He dissembles,” he said. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. I certainly didn’t mean to kiss you. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. It isn't for their sakes, it's for your own. Every drop of blood in her body glowed and expanded. Ann Veronica intervened a little in the novelist discussion with a defence of Esmond and a denial that the Egoist was obscure, and when she spoke every one else stopped talking and listened.
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