Nor is Theresa, or even Thérèse. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. Even the teachers were getting restless, the seniors gnawing hard at the bit as graduation teased. “It’s a nice holiday. There, after protestations of friendliness and helpfulness that were almost ardent, he mounted a little clumsily and rode off at an amiable pace, looking his best, making a leg with his riding gaiters, smiling and saluting, while Ann Veronica turned northward and so came to Micklechesil. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application.
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