’ He looked the girl up and down. She was not very clear about the position and duties of a chorus-girl, but it certainly had the air of being a last desperate resort. Ann Veronica watched her face, vaguely sympathizing with her, vaguely disliking her physical insufficiency and her convulsive movements, and the fine eyebrows were knit with a faint perplexity. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. You're rich. So, let's think no more about it. Somehow I haven’t connected the idea with you.
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