Her faith in human beings revived. She could have dined alone in her room; but courage had demanded that she face the ordeal and have done with it. Seeing Capes from day to day made a bright eventfulness that hampered her in the course she had resolved to follow. ‘Do you tell me that my disreputable son had the infernal insolence to pass you off as that whoring Frenchwoman’s daughter?’ His answer was in their faces. 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. "Who's there?—Pshaw! it's only the wind.
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