At last, a little way to the northward of Euston Road, the moral cloud seemed to lift, the moral atmosphere to change; clean blinds appeared in the windows, clean doorsteps before the doors, a different appeal in the neatly placed cards bearing the word ————————————— | APARTMENTS ————————————— | in the clear bright windows. ‘I try to be. The panel in the bookcase. ” The lights sank, the prelude to the third act was beginning, the music rose and fell in crowded intimations of lovers separated—lovers separated with scars and memories between them, and the curtain went reefing up to display Tristan lying wounded on his couch and the shepherd crouching with his pipe. She put a hand to the lad’s cold cheek and choked on a sob. Ann Veronica found herself in a little stirring crowd of excited women, whispering and tittering and speaking in undertones. ‘It needs not that you tell me. .
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