She had followed a bobbing white hat and gray jacket until she reached the Euston Road corner of Tottenham Court Road, and there, by the name on a bus and the cries of a conductor, she made a guess of her way. “Why on earth,” he asked, “did you hurt me like that?” Ann Veronica did her best to think she had not deliberately attempted to cause him pain. Her eardrums were burning with the echoes of those hideous shouts. It was an odd room, used principally for the reception of guests and visiting dignitaries, packed from end to end with ill-assorted sofas and padded chairs. Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers. Now let us forget it. Well, I don't blame you on that ground.
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