Daily contact with actual human beings all the more inclined her toward the imaginative. The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica. ’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips. I'll go alone. Just as he completed this operation, the file broke. Obviously he is still interested. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl.
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