235 “No, I think she’s out sick with a throat infection. ” Part 6 Then, arising she knew not how, like a new-born appetite, came a craving in Ann Veronica for the sight and sound of beauty. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. Don't forget to cut out all effervescent water. I believe it amused him. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation.
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