She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life. Was he, too, on the way to the beach? What a pity! All alone, and none to warn him of the abject wretchedness at the end of Drink. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. He hugged her when he saw her in the hallway. Their doors stood open, and placards with big letters indicated the section assigned to each. This lover of yours—” “He doesn’t know!” cried Ann Veronica. Disappointed puppy-love, and all that.
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