She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. Lucy had been ignoring her, not purposefully, but noticeably. “You see,” said Ann Veronica, staring before her at the window-sash, “that’s the form my question takes at the present time. I drew out what I had saved and boarded the first ship out. . She has married some one he could not approve of, and gone right away. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against.
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