” “Why not? Your spirits at least should be good. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. Queer world. The young lady in the bureau said she would inquire, and Ann Veronica, while she affected to read the appeal on a hospital collecting-box upon the bureau counter, had a disagreeable sense of being surveyed from behind by a small, whiskered gentleman in a frock-coat, who came out of the inner office and into the hall among a number of equally observant green porters to look at her and her bags. At least for one moment, it was.
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