“Hand me the Jergens lotion, will you? How’d it go with John?” She asked. “I think,” he said, “that you have found the real home of the lotus-eaters. ’ There was a chuckle in his voice. Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture. Miss Stanley had determined from the outset to have the warmest affection for her youngest niece and to be a second mother in her life—a second and a better one; but she had found much to battle with, and there was much in herself that Ann Veronica failed to understand.
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