John’s father brought down a violin from a high closet shelf. “I suppose, Vee, you don’t see much of those Widgetts now?” “I go in and talk to Constance sometimes. ” She shifted again. As she came in this morning she saw that the lamp was still burning in the study; so she stopped at the door. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. He envied her a little.
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