Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. It ought not to be much. The day was so darkly overcast that she had to turn on the small white porcelain lamp that sat upon the makeup crowded vanity. The house became joyous again with the talk of babies and wedding festivities. Ann Veronica was apologetic to the bottom of her soul. He called a waiter. Their colloquy was ended abruptly by the apparition of Miss Klegg at the further door. In twenty minutes we meet in the hall, remember. She directed the orchestra to tune again.
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