He came in apologetically; all the old “Well, and how ARE we?” note gone; and once he asked Ann Veronica, almost furtively, “How’s Alice getting on, Vee?” Finally, on the Day, he appeared like his old professional self transfigured, in the most beautiful light gray trousers Ann Veronica had ever seen and a new shiny silk hat with a most becoming roll. She was always asking questions about her mother and supplying the answers. From the further end of the apartment came the low music of a violin. A slow anger burned in the man. “Not a bit of it,” he said; “it’s only a score in a game. There was a wall; she was always encountering it; the one time she was able to break through this wall was when the part in his hair was crooked. " On a shelf was placed a row of paint-jars; the contents of which had been daubed in rainbow streaks upon the adjacent closet and window sill.
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