In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. “May I enquire,” he asked smoothly, “in what way my appearance contributes to your amusement? If there is a joke I should like to share it. ‘Here you, Pottiswick. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman. ” “Problems?” “Sometimes quite difficult problems. You might tell the truth to some men, but never to him. ” “I suppose all men,” said Ann Veronica, in a tone of detached criticism, “get some such entanglement. When she had finished the first tale, there was a sense of disappointment. “Think of what people will say!” That became a refrain.
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