It’s a sort of blacklegging to want to have a life of one’s own. “This is not every day. A bowl of roses, just brought by Ann Veronica, adorned the communal dressing-table, and Ann Veronica was particularly trim in preparation for a call she was to make with her aunt later in the afternoon. There was a strange quality of steel in this pretty creature. Away in London even now Capes was packing and preparing; Capes, the magic man whose touch turned one to trembling fire. Barleycorn had sent to the mat for the count of nine: unless the young fool's daddy had a bundle of coin. The latter formed by far the most knavish-looking and unprepossessing portion of the assemblage. Usually it was fish sticks and reheated noodles. To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it. P.
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