The Ragged Edge. Ann Veronica was carried off her intellectual and critical feet by it altogether, and applauded and uttered cries that subsequent reflection failed to endorse. They don’t catch on to discursive interests, you see, because they are more serious, they are concentrated on the central reality of life, and a little impatient of its—its outer aspects. She had asked about that already, and her father had replied, evasively: “We’ll have to see about that, little Vee; we’ll have to see about that. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. “Tell him that he is mad. “So, how’d it go?” Lucy sighed. Hopefully. ’ ‘Your husband?’ Gerald tutted.
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