Parties, politics, and popular opinions have changed. Ann Veronica was lying on her bed in a darkling room staring at the ceiling. Once he suggested they should go to a music-hall and see a wonderful new dancer, but Ann Veronica did not feel she cared to see a new dancer. Those I don’t mind, though, the games. Wood grasped his companion's arm to attract his attention to this unexpected means of escape. She feared he might take her tears as a sign of weakness. But here was new music, tender and kindly and whimsical, that first roved to and fro in the mind and then cuddled up in the heart. It looked very patient, she thought, and a little self-satisfied. She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. You care for me just a little, I know.
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