Gerald smiled and excused himself with the Poussaint girl, whose mouth pinched together as she threw a dagger glance at the voluptuous Madame Valade. Ann Veronica felt suddenly an effect of tremendous pathos; she would have given anything to have been able to frame and make some appeal, some utterance that should bridge this bottomless chasm that had opened between her and her father, and she could find nothing whatever to say that was in the least sincere and appealing. “I think I ought to have one. ‘Jacques!’ He stopped, but he did not turn. Ennison,” she said, letting her fingers rest in his. ‘Then I am not mad in the least. Men do not understand constancy as women do. Let's go up and see how the patient is doing. She munched her bland Whopper as he wolfed three in a row, stuffing his mouth with half a dozen French fries at a time. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent.
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