You’re a piss-poor liar, John. When the twins had first come to live in the 208 house, they were thin and bony, their tiny mouths crying for food. “What on earth did you expect me to do, then?” he asked. Daughters were not like sons. Single pearls— Lord knows where they come from!—are always turning up, some of them of fine lustre; but I never set eyes on them. ‘Good. Then Ann Veronica passed on toward the tea in the garden, which was dotted with the elite of Morningside Park society, and there she was pounced upon by Lady Palsworthy and given tea and led about.
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