All her pride raged at me. And I’m off to America, and if my steamer goes to the bottom of the Atlantic I’ll thank the Lord for it. She felt she had to go on. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. “And now,” said Ann Veronica surveying her apartment with an unprecedented sense of proprietorship, “what is the next step?” She spent the evening in writing—it was a little difficult—to her father and— which was easier—to the Widgetts. I'm thinking that the Wastrel was one day a celebrated professional; and the women were partly the cause of his fall. ‘Here we go again. Mr Jarvis’s sister, that was.
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