“Go on,” he said. “There,” he said, “you don’t treat me fairly, Miss Stanley. The floor was strewn with screws, nails, fragments of wood and stone, and across the passage lay the heavy iron fillet. “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. " "Bull's eye!" piped O'Higgins. I like high tone for a flourish and stars and ideas; but I want my things.
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