“Mr. John looked at his feet bashfully. She watched them sleep for what seemed hours from the high window until her body grew colder than the stone sill she perched upon. 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. Seldom they molested a woman who appeared to know where she was going and who kept her glance resolutely to the fore.
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