“We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. ” “Borrow the money! But who lent you the money?” “A friend,” said Ann Veronica. It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. Half an hour's labour, during which he was obliged more than once to pause to regain breath, sufficed to make a hole wide enough to allow a passage for his arm up to the elbow.
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