” He did not look at her. CHAPTER XXIX. “It’s no sort of good, Ann Veronica, pretending one does believe when one doesn’t. Part 4 But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear. By this time, she had so far succeeded in calming herself, that she answered the greetings of the neighbours whom she encountered on her way to the sacred edifice—if sorrowfully, still composedly. ’ ‘That is what you think? Let us try!’ ‘Don’t be idiotic!’ She was backing from him, reaching through one of the slits she had carefully manufactured in her petticoat. “His stipend forbade it,” she said, and seemed to fall into a train of thought. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. Anything that might stir the sense of love And God has mocked me through it all. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. ” Lucy’s nagging worry raised its own status to full blown alarm.
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