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Even after this woman had gone, it seemed to Ruth that the room was kindlier than it had ever been. One doesn’t want to lose a grain. “And besides,” said Ann Veronica, sweeping that aspect aside, “what could I do? A boy sails out into a trade or profession. He could not kiss Ruth. At any rate she must see me. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. Besides this, the door was crossed and recrossed by iron bars, clenched by broad-headed nails. They mean something. Her fingers were bursting through her gloves, as if to get at once into touch with Ann Veronica. He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind. After you went he got up and took refuge in the preparation-room.

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