“My chief,” he said, “took it into his head to have an impromptu dinner party. “Curious case,” said Ogilvy, buttering his bread and cutting it up in a way he had. She felt that she had passed a difficult corner, and that now she could go on talking with him again, just as she had been used to do before she understood what was the matter with her. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. He walked on for an hour longer, till he could scarcely drag one leg after another. It’s the sort of way a woman always does gloss over her ethical positions. He gave her silence in return. It was Annabel who spoke. I’d only get a pack of lies in reply. If she had once known him, if he were some former neighbour, it would be comprehensible. But she certainly remembered that when she was a little girl he sometimes wore tennis flannels, and also rode a bicycle very dexterously in through the gates to the front door.
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