She dismissed the whole subject with a little shrug of the shoulders. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park. ‘Sergeant Trodger is who I am. The passage was so narrow that there was only sufficient room for the cart to pass, with a single line of foot-soldiers on one side; and, as the walls of the bridge were covered with spectators, it was not deemed prudent to cross it till these persons were dislodged. Ann Veronica had come down thinking of nothing in the world but her inflexible resolution to go to the dance in the teeth of all opposition. She would be extraordinarily interesting as a metaphysical study.
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