\" She said. Sheppard, rushing from the adjoining room. “Lord!” she said. ‘Léonore, then?’ She shook her head animatedly, enjoying his attention. She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers. 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. . It got on my nerves—the women I saw.
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