But I am sick of tearing up letters and hopeless of getting what I have to say better said. ’ He thought a wary look came into her face, but it was difficult to be sure. He glanced at Miss Klegg again, and spoke quickly and furtively, with eager eyes on Ann Veronica’s face. It was rude and disrespectful to raise her eyes to him, her mother had warned. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself. There was granite in her face and agate in her eyes. At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods.
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