“But you yourself,” she exclaimed, glancing into his face, “you too look tired. Let me say it to you. He came in apologetically; all the old “Well, and how ARE we?” note gone; and once he asked Ann Veronica, almost furtively, “How’s Alice getting on, Vee?” Finally, on the Day, he appeared like his old professional self transfigured, in the most beautiful light gray trousers Ann Veronica had ever seen and a new shiny silk hat with a most becoming roll. Life is a patchwork of impressions, of vanishing personalities. ’ There was a silence. .
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