“I believe you are quite right so far as regards the present, at any rate,” someone remarked, from the depths of an easy chair. ” The lights were lowered, and an attentive waiter hovered round Anna’s cloak. She glanced at the Frenchman, and found him struggling with the portrait that was embedded around his scalp. He sat down. She opened her eyes. Only how had they missed him? Were they imbecile? Or perhaps the mists had concealed him from them. They were ingenious disguises of gilt paper destructively gummed, it would seem, to Ann Veronicas’ best dancing-slippers. But then—Oh! Madam, there are moments—moments of darkness, which overshadow a whole existence—in the lives of the poor houseless wretches who traverse the streets, when reason is well-nigh benighted; when the horrible promptings of despair can, alone, be listened to; and when vice itself assumes the aspect of virtue. Lucy could see Diane’s clear dislike of her, the foster background she had come from, and the single mysterious episode with the police that had inflamed the gossips from all the corners of town. . “Could you play ‘Fiddler on the Roof’?” father Thomas pleaded. But there was something else; and in his befogged mental state the comparison eluded him.
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