Ann Veronica, who knew her dress became her, dropped a curtsy to her father’s regard. “Thanks, so do you. But as the mystery which surrounded Ruth fell away that which enveloped her father thickened. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. Perhaps he had lost his loved ones and was wandering over the world seeking forgetfulness. Ann Veronica had one of her flashes of insight. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience.
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