Then making a pretence of stooping to rearrange her flowing train, she glanced at Anna, and half stopped in her progress down the room. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. Ann Veronica hesitated with a question that had leaped up in her mind, and that she felt was cruel. The young man opposite was straining his ears to listen to their conversation. She laughed as the deluge seemed to grow worse with every step. The doctor smoked his pipe thoughtfully. “I was surprised, I admit,” he said.
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