The telegram reminded Ann Veronica that she had no place for interviews except her bed-sitting-room, and she sought her landlady and negotiated hastily for the use of the ground floor parlor, which very fortunately was vacant. ‘Nothing would do for her but to come here,’ grumbled Hilary, wiping his heated brow with a pocket handkerchief dragged from his immaculate white uniform breeches. “And all the rest of it perhaps is a song. Such a time that it takes for them to go. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address. I shall lose my fees and the laced coat. And let us go on with our evening. So while he talked to this girl of work and freedom, his slightly protuberant eyes were noting the gracious balance of her limbs and body across the gate, the fine lines of her chin and neck. Lord, I am sixty.
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