She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. She knew very well that a new thing was stirring in her. She was civil, but she was obviously impatient to know his errand. And he would express various artistic sensibilities and aesthetic appreciations in carefully punctuated sentences and a large, clear voice. It was, Ann Veronica felt, as a sip or so of that remarkable blend warmed her blood, just the sort of thing that her aunt would not approve, to be lunching thus, tete-a-tete with a man; and yet at the same time it was a perfectly innocent as well as agreeable proceeding.
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