They crossed the street, and entering the front door passed up the outside stone steps of the flat. I couldn’t rest or eat or sleep. In addition to the various business men, solicitors, civil servants, and widow ladies who lived in the Morningside Park Avenue, there was a certain family of alien sympathies and artistic quality, the Widgetts, with which Ann Veronica had become very friendly. I admit it. The shouts drew nearer, and lights were seen flashing ruddily against the sides and gables of the neighbouring houses. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. Look at me, and answer me one question.
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