She had worn a long skirt that morning, and a roomier sweater that was slightly easier to handle than Shari’s low cut numbers. At the opening of the van doors and the emergence into the fresh air Ann Veronica’s doubt and depression gave place to the wildest exhilaration. She crushed the letter in her hand. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. Tucked under the writing-table a pair of yellow and gold Turkish slippers of a highly meretricious quality caught her eye. Your name. As he looked in this direction, Wild gave him a significant wink, the meaning of which he was not slow to comprehend. The burden of decision had been transferred. Then they rode off at speed.
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