Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. The young lady in the bureau said she would inquire, and Ann Veronica, while she affected to read the appeal on a hospital collecting-box upon the bureau counter, had a disagreeable sense of being surveyed from behind by a small, whiskered gentleman in a frock-coat, who came out of the inner office and into the hall among a number of equally observant green porters to look at her and her bags. Firstly, she did not intend to marry at all, and particularly she did not mean to marry Mr. He would be off her case just as soon as his fever for her broke and he found a lover, and she imagined he must have plenty of girls from ritzy families lining up to choose from. She wanted to cry out upon herself for the uttermost fool in existence. He was in trouble and she could not help him; that was the ache in her heart. It's gin—a liquor you used to like.
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