For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. Jack seemed glad enough to rest, his back against the wall, and closed his eyes. She was the first to hear another car approaching from the street, an odd occurrence in an elementary school lot that had been abandoned for the weekend. His eyes looked a little bloodshot to her; his face had lost something of its ruddy freshness. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. John did not see her until the last period. The bridge was open. “Among other things, you know, I didn’t understand quite—I didn’t understand that you were so keenly interested in this suffrage question. She took a few of his things before she scanned the area.
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