The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. Lucilla clearly adored her betrothed, anyone could see that. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. 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. He had removed his silk hat, and now sat looking at Ann Veronica over an untouched cup of tea; he sat gloating upon her, trying to catch her eye.
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