He turned to Mrs. ” Part 11 They sat for a time without speaking a word, in an enormous shining globe of mutual satisfaction. “I don’t know,” said Ann Veronica; “I think I am. A disconcerting gray eye that had a mystifying depth. It’s a thing I’ve unaccountably overlooked. Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict. Do you think that I am utterly selfish?” She raised her eyebrows. She had set out to get a beautiful life, a free, untrammelled life, self-development, without counting the cost either for herself or others. Her moods were many and always striking. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit.
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