“What else was I to do?” For some seconds she stood watching him and both were thinking very quickly. “I too am asked. “I am exceedingly sorry,” he said. “And now,” said Ann Veronica surveying her apartment with an unprecedented sense of proprietorship, “what is the next step?” She spent the evening in writing—it was a little difficult—to her father and— which was easier—to the Widgetts. Her sense of humour could not wholly resist his abnormal gravity. With this she now entered. 95 The officer showed her into the sleepy suburban police station, a hub of inactivity on Sunday night except for herself and a slightly drunk woman who had been brought in for DUI.
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