She would end alone. ’ ‘What?’ ‘Neat little toy. Mere formality. ’ ‘Probably not. But I don't look for peace on this side the grave. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. The whole story of your relationship is a fabrication. Her aunt returned before the packing was done, and Ann Veronica lunched with an uneasy sense of bag and hold-all packed up-stairs and inadequately hidden from chance intruders by the valance of the bed.
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