Then she called a hansom and drove home. Ann Veronica thought the whole affair rather jolly. "Too late, master," replied the landlord of the Trumpeter, in a surly tone, for he did not much like the appearance of his customer; "just shut up shop. It was a cheerful, irresponsible, shamelessly hard-up family in the key of faded green and flattened purple, and the girls went on from the High School to the Fadden Art School and a bright, eventful life of art student dances, Socialist meetings, theatre galleries, talking about work, and even, at intervals, work; and ever and again they drew Ann Veronica from her sound persistent industry into the circle of these experiences. Pale, flesh-colored light filtered in through the corners of the house. “So she must have had you fairly young, right?” Lucy nodded again. The street was deserted, no pedestrian school-goers walked immediately in front or behind them.
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