” She groaned aloud and bowed her forehead to her knees. ’ ‘It cannot be helped now. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. We’re handfuls. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. Ann Veronica, with a sigh at the cost of hospitality, made a hasty negotiation for an extra tea and for a fire in the groundfloor apartment, and preened herself carefully for the interview.
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