He put down his hat and umbrella, rested his hands on his hips, and regarded Ann Veronica firmly. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. Their poor hands!” “I know,” said Mr. Each manuscript was like the other: the same lovely treatment of an unlovely subject.
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