"What has happened?" Ruth asked. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. They went down the great staircase of the building, and, while she sought in her mind for a beginning, he broke into appreciation of her simple dress and selfcongratulations upon their engagement. It was better even than the hymn-singing. "It'll ease your mind. The service began. His new wife’s face was sweet and angelic with hair the color of flax, her belly already visibly large beneath a roe skin pelt. It was not simply that all the rooms were rearranged and everybody dressed in unusual fashions, and all the routines of life abolished and put away: people’s tempers and emotions also seemed strangely disturbed and shifted about. She looked into his eyes, truly noticing their gray color for the first time. Spare him!—pity me!" With this she arose, and, taking up the infant, was about to proceed down stairs, when she was alarmed by hearing the street-door opened, and the sound of heavy footsteps entering the house. The intense darkness added to the terror of the storm. "Not proud in the least, I declare.
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