CHAPTER XXVII His idea, cleverly planned, was to shatter her resistance, to confound her suddenly by striking her mind with words which would rob her coherent thought. She knew now that he never would. “Wow. ’ ‘And you are of a disposition entirely untruthful,’ retorted Gerald. But—It’s just this: who was to be hurt?” “I wish no one had to be hurt,” said Ann Veronica. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. It loves to sit on your knee. ‘Valade, if you don’t mind.
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