A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. Here again instinct guided her. I am going up to dine with my sister. ’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. The reply he received this time put him into a state of continuous bewilderment. Of the vast mass of these impressions Ann Veronica could make nothing at the time; there they were—Fact! She stored them away in a mind naturally retentive, as a squirrel stores away nuts, for further digestion. A young man with shiny frock coat and very high collar, advanced towards her languidly. .
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