Chapter VII MISS PELLISSIER’S SUSPICIONS “Anna!” Anna kissed her sister and nodded to her aunt. ” It was, Ann Veronica felt, at once absurd and extraordinarily right. She laughed as the deluge seemed to grow worse with every step. “Nobody understands them, of course, but we all look as though we did. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. “Never mind the bill,” said Manning tragically, standing up and thrusting a four-shilling piece into her hand, and turning a broad back on her astonishment.
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