Cathy gave her a bear hug and patted her severe 252 hairdo. Her fingers were bursting through her gloves, as if to get at once into touch with Ann Veronica. It was a dead calm. “I should like you to come here,” she said. "Come here," said the petticoated tyrant. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. Gossip was the driving force in Sheila’s existence. If there was such a thing as love at first sight, these two must epitomise it. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. You need have no apprehensions about him, Sir Rowland.
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