“Oh, I am lonely,” she moaned. And now she was discovering that even Nature was something of a liar, with her mirages and her horizons. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. Why do you look so sad?” She opened her eyes wider and stifled her emotions. ” “And what do you think I ought to do?” “Exactly!” He lifted a paper-weight and dabbed it gently down again. . “They’re very good this year,” said Ann Veronica, avoiding controversial matter. The family always managed to make it home for supper, even though it was a dying custom. Scarcely any one noticed the full measure of her consternation.
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