He dressed rather after the fashion of the West End than the City, and affected a cultured urbanity that somehow disconcerted and always annoyed Ann Veronica’s father extremely. “There is something to be said for the lady-like theory after all,” she admitted. “Are you feeling okay?” “Just fine. To-night there seemed to be a new brilliancy in her eyes, a deeper quality in her tone. ‘Comment? What do you wish?’ ‘What the devil do you think you’re up to now, I’d like to know?’ Her eyes flashed. . Our ideal had fallen. Lucy loved orchestras, the bittersweet tinge of rosin dust that hung in the air, the way that the sun shone through filthy windows illuminating the marimbas with a storybook light.
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