Her father read a draft prospectus warily, and her aunt dropped fragments of her projects for managing while the cook had a holiday. And then there came for both of them at least a temporary awakening. Her stifled misery had betrayed her. "I have him!" cried a voice in triumph. “Don’t be childish, Annabel. Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name of a river, not a Christian. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. I would speak with you. If only out of loyalty to co-education one has to do that. By the time John returned with popcorn and a large Coke, the theater had filled up with high-school kids. See what a horrible rascal you've let loose upon the world!" "I'm sure, mother," rejoined Winifred, "if any one was likely to feel resentment, I was; for no one could be more frightened. The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring. The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica.
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