Ruth did not reply, but stared past the doctor, her eyes misty. He beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments. It was precious for two reasons: it was the photograph of her beautiful mother whom she could not remember, and it would identify her to the aunt in Hartford. She too at once developed an anxious interest in the street outside. Here was a little corner of the past—a tragic corner. Gerald watched its approach with vague interest, which quickened when he saw that it was drawing up outside the very house out of which he had just stepped. ” “That is all very well,” said Ann Veronica, unheeded.
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