Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. “By God!” said Ann Veronica for the first time in her life. Find your man, that’s the rule. She appeared to be considering. “I’ll get a towel. “What’s that for?” He said. ” She replied.
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