Except for one memorable school excursion to Paris, Ann Veronica had never yet been outside England. Carried out to sea by Van Galgebrok, and thrown overboard, while struggling with the waves, he had been picked up by a French fishing-boat, and carried to Ostend. “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. She had grabbed! She became less and less attentive to his meditative, self-complacent fragments of talk as she told herself this. Reaching the panel, she was able with the aid of her lantern to find the lever at once. He patted the hand on his sleeve. She tried to imagine herself “getting something,” to project herself as sitting down at a desk and writing, or as returning after her work to some pleasantly equipped and free and independent flat. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut.
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