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"Well, Jack," said the prize-fighter, in a rough, but friendly voice, and with a cutand-thrust abrupt manner peculiar to himself; "how are you, lad, eh? Sorry to see you here. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. "You are angry?" "Very. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. "Ay. " "Nonsense," returned Jonathan gruffly. She gazed steadily out of the window at that arc of glittering lights. Only one penny—two copies—two pence—thank you, Sir. Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles. She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her.
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