CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance. Even your family. They were childless and servantless, and they had reduced simple living to the finest of fine arts. Ann Veronica had come down thinking of nothing in the world but her inflexible resolution to go to the dance in the teeth of all opposition. Perhaps that other boy who visited you backstage at the concert. There were cakes and sandwiches—for Ennison a sort of Elysian feast, long to be remembered. ‘Why did you bring him? I hate him. Too late, alas, to stop the disastrous marriage. Could you pull over? She asked. Ah, and put him under if he wakes up.
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