It was a cheerful, irresponsible, shamelessly hard-up family in the key of faded green and flattened purple, and the girls went on from the High School to the Fadden Art School and a bright, eventful life of art student dances, Socialist meetings, theatre galleries, talking about work, and even, at intervals, work; and ever and again they drew Ann Veronica from her sound persistent industry into the circle of these experiences. The stranger started at the touch, and spoke. Then to the Feathers, in Drury Lane. The action steadied him; and there was a phase of irony, too, that helped. But the clearly definite thing was the ultimate escape. That is so awful. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. Pull over there. But his hand was withheld by Thames. They had cried a little, both. Now the pig knew where to find her—for it would not take long for a Catholic to locate the convent in Golden Square—even if she escaped him here.
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