“I have found out at last what a useless person I am —from a utilitarian point of view. Hitherto she had seen it chiefly in pictures and other works of art, incidentally, and as a thing taken out of life. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. ” Ann Veronica read this letter through with grave, attentive eyes. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. I had a sort of idea,” he went on, “that you were starting life all over again, and it seemed awfully plucky. ” “You want to be free and so forth, yes. ” Ennison thought so too half an hour later, when having cut out from one of the bridge tables he settled down for a chat with Annabel.
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