'Slife! you are wonderfully altered. “And aren’t there fees to pay at the Imperial College?” her aunt was saying—a disagreeable question. The chapel was crowded to excess. A black-garbed young lad leapt out and let down the steps. 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.
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