\" Diane chirped once again, ever-musical. Ann Veronica brought her luggage in a cab from the hotel; she tipped the hotel porter sixpence and overpaid the cabman eighteenpence, unpacked some of her books and possessions, and so made the room a little homelike, and then sat down in a by no means uncomfortable arm-chair before the fire. Anyhow he confessed that he was a fraud. She’s right upstairs. “It was my sister Anna. The terror faded from her eyes. Each was draped in transparent silk, dancing, beckoning to me, teasing me. The point is, Spurlock was coming along: queerly, by his own imagination. We’ll make short work of them. “Please call me Carol.
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