“What can one say?” she exclaimed. And look, again, at the women one finds letting lodgings. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books. At the sound of the door Ann Veronica uncovered a tearless face, and with one swift movement assumed a conversational attitude. His father and mother were a lawyer and a doctor, respectively. A creature of convenience, she could have cared less if her children were carried away by drunkards on the street. I thought it was a mirror at the first, for it was so very like myself.
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