He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. I knew where I would go next: Florence. “You see,” said Ann Veronica, with the air of one who shares a difficulty, “I’ve promised to go. . She changed her mind that day, as her mother Marina had predicted. Nevertheless, Sir John had the look of a man who was enjoying himself. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. “It’s odd,” said Ann Veronica, re-entering the flat. "Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. " "That's reasonable.
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