Part 4 But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear. Ann Veronica glanced at the mirror to discover a flushed and dishevelled disorder. “I am afraid,” he said to Anna afterwards, “that it was a mistake to order the champagne sec. And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause. Through a blur of tears Ruth followed the rocking light until it vanished. "How long will he be laid up?" "Three or four weeks, if he doesn't peg out during the night.
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