But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. The quiet encounter and home-coming Ann Veronica and she had contemplated was entirely disorganized by this misadventure; there were no adequate explanations, and after they had settled things at Ann Veronica’s lodgings, they reached home in the early afternoon estranged and depressed, with headaches and the trumpet voice of the indomitable Kitty Brett still ringing in their ears. That’s why I wanted your weapons. They do a good job, huh?” He smiled at her.
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