His idea was to get behind this sustained listlessness. Of course, girls repeat phrases and opinions of which they cannot possibly understand the meaning. What’s that?” They both stood listening. Ann Veronica forgot him as soon as she was through the gate, and her face resumed its expression of stern preoccupation. “You were there, were you?” He laughed a little impatiently. She thought of them as fools, but had been sorry to see them go. It was a cheerful, irresponsible, shamelessly hard-up family in the key of faded green and flattened purple, and the girls went on from the High School to the Fadden Art School and a bright, eventful life of art student dances, Socialist meetings, theatre galleries, talking about work, and even, at intervals, work; and ever and again they drew Ann Veronica from her sound persistent industry into the circle of these experiences. But I expect him back every minute.
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