For a time Ann Veronica went on her way gauging the quality of sordid streets. Considering his convictions he felt that his remark was a generous one. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. ‘Stay, Saling!’ The butler halted, looking round enquiringly. He was caked with dried muck. Finally she decided that even for an hotel she must look round, and that meanwhile she would “book” her luggage at Waterloo.
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