They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. They talked across their meal in an easy and friendly manner about Ann Veronica’s affairs. None of the things they said and did were altogether new to Ann Veronica, but now she got them massed and alive, instead of by glimpses or in books—alive and articulate and insistent. “Anna of course would not accept any money from us,” she continued. I’ll feel fine as soon as I get out of my wet clothes.
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