Grace-church Street was entirely deserted, except by a few stragglers, whose curiosity got the better of their fears; or who, like the carpenter, were compelled to proceed along it. Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. “Who are you?” She asked innocently. Here, Peter," he added to a curly-headed lad, who was playing on one of the grassy tombs, "ask your father to step this way. Through all this flutter of novelty there came and went a solicitous, preoccupied, almost depressed figure. From time to time, however, he was baffled.
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