Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. He's down in Patagonia somewhere. ’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. ’ ‘Ah, non?’ Her voice was neutral. ” She groaned aloud and bowed her forehead to her knees. She found no ready reply to that, and he went on: “This music is the food of love. ” “I couldn’t do that,” said Ann Veronica, sharply. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. She leaned back in the corner of the cab with a little sigh of relief. “You know what a fearful old prig Ferringhall is, always goes about as though the whole world were watching him? We tried to show him around Paris, but he wouldn’t have any of it. Behind every one of these myriad fronts she passed there must be a career or careers. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. I next proceeded to Jenny Bunch's, the Ship, in Trig Lane—there I got the same answer. ” She laughed heartily, and became as suddenly grave. I should have gone mad without it.
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