She decided to leave after Prom. He thought of her and himself, and no longer in that vein of incidental adventure in which he had begun. It had been a trying day. “And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified. They had scarcely gained the adjoining cellar when Jonathan and the Jew rushed past in the direction of the vault.
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