At first she could not tell what it was; but as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she recognized the old coat. “Lucy, this isn’t funny anymore. You must have repented a little, or you would not have done that. It is not at all comme il faut. Ennison, if at all,” Anna declared calmly. He came in apologetically; all the old “Well, and how ARE we?” note gone; and once he asked Ann Veronica, almost furtively, “How’s Alice getting on, Vee?” Finally, on the Day, he appeared like his old professional self transfigured, in the most beautiful light gray trousers Ann Veronica had ever seen and a new shiny silk hat with a most becoming roll. You must say farewell to her, for I cannot.
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