It was the end, she told herself, fiercely. Even now she could trace the outline of his shape behind the left-hand curtain. A wrathful God was watching him. “But my dear Ann Veronica, you will be getting into debt!” Ann Veronica at once, and with a feeling of immense relief, took refuge in her dignity. . ’ ‘Is it, now? Well you won’t, then, for he won’t hear nothing, missie. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments.
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