But a woman’s life is all chance. The man was mad to marry me. ” “I sent a telegram, aunt,” said Ann Veronica. . She looked at the white ankle socks on her feet and was reminded simultaneously of her pajama outfit and the suitcase that still lay underneath the bed. He was, in fact, quite eager to go on living. She had been fighting down this thought for days: that Hoddy did not care, that he did not love her, that he had mistaken a vagary of the mind for a substance, and now regretted what he had done— married a girl who was not his equal in anything. They walked in silence. She had just passed into a little antechamber beyond when she suddenly heard a faint knocking.
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