Part 4 But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear. “How’s the star?” John’s father asked. He regretted now that in his idle hours he hadn't hunted up one against the rainy day. “It seems to me it comes to earning one’s living in the long run,” said Ann Veronica, coloring faintly.
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