Part 2 In the late afternoon, as Ann Veronica was gathering flowers for the dinnertable, her father came strolling across the lawn toward her with an affectation of great deliberation. She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks. The first peg was torture. “Stuffy these trees make the Avenue,” said Mr. ” “Teddy,” said Ann Veronica, “you’re a dear!” “Oh, quite!” said Teddy, convulsively, and lifted an imaginary hat and left her. I am your first, of course you feel strongly. “Quite different. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. She felt herself shaking again. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. She came in now with an air of reserved solicitude. A very familiar face emerged from a crowd at the impromptu bar on the kitchen island. “It is part of the irony of life,” he said. I want to boast myself.
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