” Then she looked up at him with frightened eyes. "Your father—poor imbecile!—believes we ran away together. There, hanging among Ann Veronica’s more normal clothing, was a skimpy dress of red canvas, trimmed with cheap and tawdry braid, and short—it could hardly reach below the knee. “If my own mother was alive,” sobbed Ann Veronica, “she would understand. ” She had a moment of sheer panic at the thing she had done. Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. She regarded him coldly, as though wondering whether he had anything further to say. ” “But Hainault—was—a pal. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief.
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