She put down the sketch-books and apparatus she had brought with her, pulled out her stool, and sat down. “My God!” he said at last, with tremendous feeling, and then again, “My God!” Now that this thing was said her mind was clear and calm. I want him immediately, so you can send Frith with my phaeton if you like. He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. 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. Time was moving so fast, she could no longer count the days since Gosse had come to her with his preposterous suggestion at the Coq d’Or, where they were staying and where he had robbed her and left her and Martha to their fate. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. .
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