Darting quickly to the chest that contained the priest’s vestments, she leapt onto it and reached her arm down to scrabble behind it on the floor. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. Your purposes are defeated. Before a word could be said, however, a slight noise was heard in the chimney, and Jack with his irons on descended from it. She was powerless to move from her chair. It was a cheerful, irresponsible, shamelessly hard-up family in the key of faded green and flattened purple, and the girls went on from the High School to the Fadden Art School and a bright, eventful life of art student dances, Socialist meetings, theatre galleries, talking about work, and even, at intervals, work; and ever and again they drew Ann Veronica from her sound persistent industry into the circle of these experiences. "Go to lunch," he ordered Ruth. “Better,” said Ann Veronica, with an unreal alacrity.
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