For a time Ann Veronica’s attention was diverted by her aunt’s interest in the salted almonds. She got out of bed, her eyes still half-closed, and stood slack jawed. Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. Her mouth at half-cock, Melusine stood there staring at him.
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