‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. “But I don’t see,” said Ann Veronica, “just how it fits the present situation. " There had never been, from that fatal hour eight months gone down to this, the inclination to confess. At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws. She was introduced, perhaps a little too obviously for her taste, as a girl who was standing out against her people, to a gathering that consisted of a very old lady with an extremely wrinkled skin and a deep voice who was wearing what appeared to Ann Veronica’s inexperienced eye to be an antimacassar upon her head, a shy, blond young man with a narrow forehead and glasses, two undistinguished women in plain skirts and blouses, and a middle-aged couple, very fat and alike in black, Mr.
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