“Your little flag of pride must flutter down with the rest of them, Ann Veronica. Upon what this instinct was based she could not say; she was conscious only of its insistence. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. I’m anxious, joyfully anxious, like a man when he has found a treasure. He depended upon her, for his medicine, for his drink, for the little amusement it was now permissible to give him. He stood back, smiling with an air of proprietorship, and looking about him at the business-like equipment of the room. F. She had never imagined life was half so sinister as it looked to her in the beginning of these investigations.
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