She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. 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. I cannot live without you, Anna. Suddenly she felt her wrist grasped by a strong hand. Yesterday!—who cared? To-morrow!—who knew? "Porpoise," she said, touching his hand. Mr. Martin proceeded to grab Lucy by the shoulders and air-kiss both of her cheeks teasingly. There are times when you make me feel a little thing at your feet—a young, silly, protected thing. It was cheating, pitiful cheating.
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