Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. ” “The faults are the best part of it,” said Ann Veronica; “why, even our little vicious strains run the same way. He has a grand time. ” For some creditable moments in her life Ann Veronica was utterly disgusted with herself; she was wrung with a passionate and belated desire to move gently, to speak softly and ambiguously—to be, in effect, prim. "Let me have a word with the cull!" "Ay! ay!" cried several of the bystanders, "let Jonathan kimbaw the cove.
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