“We’re going to be sensible. “We are not the sort that goes under,” said Ann Veronica, holding her hands so that the red reflections vanished from her eyes. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park. “MY DEAR VERONICA,—Your aunt tells me you have involved yourself in some arrangement with the Widgett girls about a Fancy Dress Ball in London. ” He rejoiced over this emancipation.
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