It may not be just, it may not be fair, but things are so. The young lady in the bureau said she would inquire, and Ann Veronica, while she affected to read the appeal on a hospital collecting-box upon the bureau counter, had a disagreeable sense of being surveyed from behind by a small, whiskered gentleman in a frock-coat, who came out of the inner office and into the hall among a number of equally observant green porters to look at her and her bags. It was a work of no slight danger, for every instant a wall, or fragment of a building, came crashing to the ground. “I hope you’re satisfied. “I think that I know very well what I am saying,” she answered. Anna raised her eyebrows at the sight of him.
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