Then she went in and up-stairs, hesitated on the landing, and finally, a little breathless and with an air of great dignity, opened the door and walked into Ann Veronica’s room. It's two hundred pounds. She did not question or analyze the craving; she took the plunge joyously. Sir John, who was standing outside, looked past him at the girl still sitting in the shadow. “Next door,” said a spectacled young person of seventeen or eighteen, with an impatient indication of the direction. He should never sufficiently be able to regret the return which they had made to her. She would take this one back with her. He looked melancholy enough, it is true. She could not risk going in the door, lest she run into Larry or Cathy drinking a nocturnal glass of milk or Mike raiding the refrigerator for snacks. She imagined descending the stairs, hearing Mike’s uproarious laughter as she peeked around a vacant corner with a lump in her throat.
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