"I believe he's gone," he said, returning to Jonathan. He laughed at her heartily, and she laughed too as she had not for a year. Ann Veronica had one of her flashes of insight. Her body was perpetually tanned, despite the approach of winter. “Remember,” he said, “you are not by any means a dying man now, but you’ll never pull through if you don’t husband your strength. No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor. “I must take them,” she said, to help herself over her own incredulity. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male. Blest with a fond husband, surrounded by every comfort, you have never been assailed by the horrible temptations to which misery has exposed me.
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