“Well?” he asked her tersely. " "True," replied the widow, upon whom all the terrible recollections of the day before crowded, "I know it isn't. I HAD to. ’ ‘Compel me? You do not know me, monsieur. It seemed incredible that she and her aunt were, indeed, creatures of the same blood, only by a birth or so different beings, and part of that same broad interlacing stream of human life that has invented the fauns and nymphs, Astarte, Aphrodite, Freya, and all the twining beauty of the gods. And as he walked by her side they began a wrangle that was none the less pleasant to Ann Veronica because it served to banish a disagreeable preoccupation. “So, since when does a grown man have to sneak behind the Laundromat to smoke a cigarette?” She asked 115 him.
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