She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. Her aunt returned before the packing was done, and Ann Veronica lunched with an uneasy sense of bag and hold-all packed up-stairs and inadequately hidden from chance intruders by the valance of the bed. She was to see Capes to-morrow, but now, in this state of misery she had achieved, she felt assured he would turn his back upon her, take no notice of her at all. She had been carrying them, he assumed, but then again the school had some particularly talented kids among the usual ruffians. “How old are you?\" He looked at her engagingly. “You know what? You’re right.
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