Lad, I admire you even in your folly. He came in apologetically; all the old “Well, and how ARE we?” note gone; and once he asked Ann Veronica, almost furtively, “How’s Alice getting on, Vee?” Finally, on the Day, he appeared like his old professional self transfigured, in the most beautiful light gray trousers Ann Veronica had ever seen and a new shiny silk hat with a most becoming roll. His patient was distinctly of a different order of life. She heard the rats scattering across the stone as dirt fell into the crypt. "And yet—but it is only part of the chain of ill-luck that seems wound around me. So far as I am concerned, I am just now a hopeless nonentity.
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