They used the rope—not that a rope was at all necessary, but because Ann Veronica’s exalted state of mind made the fact of the rope agreeably symbolical; and, anyhow, it did insure a joint death in the event of some remotely possibly mischance. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. The concourse extended along Giltspur Street as far as Smithfield. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. . Kneebone made his appearance. They seemed the most wrapped things in all Ann Veronica’s wrappered world. Her bonnet dropped off and was trampled into the gutter.
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