“You see,” said Ann Veronica, staring before her at the window-sash, “that’s the form my question takes at the present time. “I thought you were coming right across the Park. ” 174 < 21 > THANKSGIVING She padded softly up the old stairs, exhausted and elated. In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. A pane of glass was shivered by each stone. ” It was, Ann Veronica felt, at once absurd and extraordinarily right.
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