Be off!" "Jack!" exclaimed his unhappy parent. It happened that at the extremest point of Ann Veronica’s social circle from the Widgetts was the family of the Morningside Park horsedealer, a company of extremely dressy and hilarious young women, with one equestrian brother addicted to fancy waistcoats, cigars, and facial spots. He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. Her aunt did not object to capital punishment or war, or the industrial system or casual wards, or flogging of criminals or the Congo Free State, because none of these things really got hold of her imagination; but she did object, she did not like, she could not bear to think of people not having and enjoying their meals. ‘I want a word with you, my lad. I go back about once a year.
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