“You are very stupid, Anna,” she said. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. ’ ‘Nonsense, it’ll give Pottiswick something genuine to complain about,’ said Gerald cheerfully, moving to the edge of the trees. I’ve always had a sneaking desire for the writing-trade. They found a river pool and disrobed together as they had for hundreds of years. ‘Too late by the time I realised to what a dunderhead I’d pledged my friendship. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. “What night will you dine and go to the theatre with me?—and how about Hurlingham on Saturday?” Anna shook her head.
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