Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. She felt that for a time at any rate her depressing struggle against continual failure was at an end. She tolerated spitballs in her curly hair and had to buy a new backpack when hers was stolen. ' He muttered it continually. Meantime the spinsters sought the dining room where tea was being served. ‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live. “No.
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