She hoped that he would at long last remember his young male pride. Ann Veronica tried to seem absolutely unconcerned. Every window, from the groundfloor to the garret had its occupant, and the roofs were covered with spectators. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. “Oh my God, what if she’s dead?” More giggling. She felt conscious of her nipples becoming visibly erect under the tight t-shirt and wished that she owned a thicker brassiere.
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