In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. " "Damnation!" cried Jonathan, stamping his foot with uncontrollable rage. For a long time neither spoke again. This woman, contrary to his custom, he answered. That I should be challenged by you of all people. Leaving the library by the same door she had first used to enter it earlier that day, she crossed the two little antechambers and moved on through the rooms. The mother, Cathy Beck, was as patient and as charitable of an individual that Lucy had ever known, a big kindly Polish-American woman with the heart of an angel. “And so you have been thinking?” her father began, quoting her letter and looking over his slanting glasses at her. ” Ann Veronica’s mind was filled with confused unutterable replies. Even after this woman had gone, it seemed to Ruth that the room was kindlier than it had ever been.
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