The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. You need not be afraid. At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. He appeared to thunder dire happenings if she did not obey him without further ado. Then one old crone, short-sighted and shaky-handed, called Ann Veronica “dearie,” and made some remark, obscure and slangy, of which the spirit rather than the words penetrated to her understanding.
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