y more. I--In fact, I dislike him extremely."

"Suppose he comes and talks to me?"

"A girl can always keep a man at a distance if she cares to do it.
She--She can snub him."

Ann Veronica picked a cornflower.

"I wouldn't make this objection," Mr. Stanley went on, "but there are
things--there are stories about Ramage. He's--He lives in a world of
possibilities outside your imagination. His treatment of his wife
is most unsatisfactory. Most unsatisfactory. A bad man, in fact. A
dissipated, loose-living man."

"I'll try not to see him again," said Ann Veronica. "I didn't know you
objected to him, daddy."

"Strongly," said Mr. Stanley, "very strongly."

The conversation hung. Ann Veronica wondered what her father would do if
she were to tell him the full story of her relations with Ramage.

"A man like that taints a girl by looking at her, by his mere
conversation." He adjusted his glasses on his nose. There was another
little thing he had to say. "One has to be so careful of one's friends
and acquaintances," he remarked, by way of transition. "They mould one
insensibly." His voice assumed an easy detached tone. "I suppose, Vee,
you don't see much of those Widgetts now?"

"I go in and talk to Constance sometimes."

"Do you?"

"We were great friends at school."

"No doubt.... Still--I don't know whether I quite like--Something
ramshackle about those people, Vee. While I am talking about your
friends, I feel--I think you ought to know how I look at it." His voice
conveyed studied moderation. "I don't mind, of course, your seeing
her sometimes, still there are differences--differences in social
atmospheres. One gets drawn into things. Before you know where you
are you find yourself in a complication. I don't want to influence you
unduly--But--They're artistic people, Vee. That's the fact about them.
We're different."

"I suppose we are," said Vee, rearranging the flowers in her hand.

"Friendships that are all very well between school-girls don't always go
on into later life. It's--it's a social difference."

"I like Constance very much."

"No doubt. Still, one has to be reasonable. As you admitted to me--one
has to square one's self with the world. You don't know. With people
of that sort all sorts of things may happen. We don't want things to
happen."

Ann Veronica made no answer.

A vague desire to justify himself ruffled her father. "I may seem
unduly--anxious. I can't forget about your sister. It