He had not taken many steps when he perceived Quilt Arnold in the upper gallery, with a lamp in his hand. . There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings. There, hanging among Ann Veronica’s more normal clothing, was a skimpy dress of red canvas, trimmed with cheap and tawdry braid, and short—it could hardly reach below the knee. "What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley. As they entered the room beyond, a fierce growl was heard. He would never be able to compose upon it, but it would serve to produce the finished work.
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