The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. In the recess beside the fireplace were some open bookshelves. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. “I don’t care,” said Ann Veronica to the darkness; “I’ll fight it. Before ever I knew you. She was particularly charmed by his theory of friendship. He seemed inexorable, and inscrutable as fate itself. ’ ‘Of Leonardo? Yes, I will tell you. I can’t stand it. ” “That’s one of our differences.
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