“Fearful old fogey! I can’t imagine any sister of yours putting up with him for a moment. I can't spare you at present. Wood, in equal trepidation. I’m sick of this town and I can’t wait to get out. “An annuity—a sum of money paid to you yearly or quarterly through my solicitors, and which you can consider as a gift from your sister. It was decrepit and too large. A bowl of roses, just brought by Ann Veronica, adorned the communal dressing-table, and Ann Veronica was particularly trim in preparation for a call she was to make with her aunt later in the afternoon. Lucy savored the normalcy of the scene.
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