Something or other—she did not catch what—he was damned if he could stand. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. “I cannot say who he is,” said Ann Veronica, “but he is a married man. In the midst of this light stood a young woman. ” But Ann Veronica was by no means sure of that until she went over to Wamblesmith and saw her sister, very remote and domestic and authoritative, in a becoming tea-gown, in command of Doctor Ralph’s home. Every moment or two he bent over his patient. He and his friends (he had at least two per class, even in Trigonometry) would make their exits as quickly as possible. John stared palely. Surely he was imagining this picture. You’re such a strange girl.
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