The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica. His advice was mostly practical. And he began also at times to wake at night and think about her. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. She bought her Greyhound ticket one steamy afternoon when school let out at eleven thirty A. “Well,” she said, “good-night, father. "But she is a dear," said Angelina, timidly. One glance swept across the place and it was immediately apparent that Pottiswick had not, this time, been mistaken. He spoke the automatic thought that entered his mind. It seemed at first the most beautiful afternoon of all time to her, and perhaps the thrill of her excitement did add a distinctive and culminating keenness to the day. He eyed the young couple with the tragic history behind them, and could only suppose that familiarity had dulled their senses.
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