Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. “You heard no pistol-shot?” “None. I knew it was only a matter of time before the boys started paying attention to you, Lucy. Diane spooned warm apple-rhubarb pie onto the girl’s plates, topping each with scoops of ice cream. Whatever may happen to-morrow I shall be none the better for anticipating its miseries to-day. “You see,” she said, very gently, “I AM going.
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