“Heavens!” she exclaimed. “That is as you will,” she said. “And what is it all about, Veronica?” he asked, with a deliberate note of irony, looking at her a little quizzically over his glasses. Planting his knee against her side, he pulled her towards him with one hand, while with the other he sought his knife. ‘You are not sympathique in the very least. “If only her sister is half as pretty, no wonder that she has set the Parisians talking. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food.
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