“I don’t think you realize,” Ann Veronica began again, “that I am rather a defective human being. I shall take to him as nat'ral as if he were my own flesh and blood afore long. The young lady in the bureau said she would inquire, and Ann Veronica, while she affected to read the appeal on a hospital collecting-box upon the bureau counter, had a disagreeable sense of being surveyed from behind by a small, whiskered gentleman in a frock-coat, who came out of the inner office and into the hall among a number of equally observant green porters to look at her and her bags. Nothing is settled upon.
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