“And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. "I fear we're too late," he whispered to Thames. ” Lucy walked out of her bedroom door following Mike down the tiny hall. I’ve just finished my first symphony!” He said proudly.
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