Chapter XX

ANN DORLAND GOES MISERE The studio door was opened by a girl he did not know. She was not tall, but compactly and generously built. He noticed the wide shoulders and the strong swing of the thighs before he had taken in her face. The uncurtained window behind her threw her features into shadow; he was only aware of thick black hair, cut in a square bob, with a bang across the forehead. ‘Miss Phelps is out.’ ‘Oh!—will she be long?’ ‘Don’t know. She’ll be in to supper.’ ‘Do you think I might come in and wait?’ ‘I exp…