never to have really existed--so that it was manifestly not based on
love--you must not admit it. There it was, and the love was not--but
there you were, and must continue to be! Thus you had it both ways, and
were not tarred with cynicism, realism, and immorality like the French.
Moreover, it was necessary in the interests of property. He knew that
she knew that they both knew there was no love between them, but he
still expected her not to admit in words or conduct such a thing, and he
could never understand what she meant when she talked of the hypocrisy
of the English. He said:

"Whom have you got at 'The Shelter' next week?"

Annette went on touching her lips delicately with salve--he always
wished she wouldn't do that.

"Your sister Winifred, and the Car-r-digans"--she took up a tiny stick
of black--"and Prosper Profond."

"That Belgian chap? Why him?"

Annette turned her neck lazily, touched one eyelash, and said:

"He amuses Winifred."

"I want some one to amuse Fleur; she's restive."

"R-restive?" repeated Annette. "Is it the first time you see that, my
friend? She was born r-restive, as you call it."

Would she never get that affected roll out of her r's?