Do you think it’s nothing to me to have my daughter running about London looking for odd jobs and disgracing herself?” “Sha’n’t get odd jobs,” said Ann Veronica, wiping her eyes. She went about, intentlooking and self-possessed, trim and fine, concealing her emotions whatever they were, as the realities of her position opened out before her. “Yes. It will be horribly dull, and she is a very trying person. The old aspect of the place was gone. Her fingers were bursting through her gloves, as if to get at once into touch with Ann Veronica. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods.
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