CHAPTER XIV. It's a sorry world," he went on. I knew where I would go next: Florence. He took up his hat and went. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre. The sky was dripping a wet, slow rain that had forced the city’s inhabitants into taxicabs and dingy cafeterias, the day wholly ruined for all except the insane schizophrenics and her. ” “I suppose all men,” said Ann Veronica, in a tone of detached criticism, “get some such entanglement. “Ask me nothing. There would be no moon. “I should really like to find somewhere to stay, if it was only for a few nights. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. Don’t leave me in this beastly thing. That’s who you ought to go and see, miss.
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