The telegram reminded Ann Veronica that she had no place for interviews except her bed-sitting-room, and she sought her landlady and negotiated hastily for the use of the ground floor parlor, which very fortunately was vacant. “I know nothing about your wife. Then perhaps I shall send for him if he has not forgotten. ” For some creditable moments in her life Ann Veronica was utterly disgusted with herself; she was wrung with a passionate and belated desire to move gently, to speak softly and ambiguously—to be, in effect, prim. She was carefree. I’m in this apartment and looking for work because—Well, what else can I do, when my father practically locks me up?” “I know,” said Mr.
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