Ramage leaned over the gate at Ann Veronica’s side, and for a moment there was silence. Part 4 But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear. “But, how,” he said, sitting up astonished beyond measure, “not go on?” “I have been thinking while you have been talking. Or I should say—’ ‘Eugenia,’ cut in Gerald grimly.
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