With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him. Lucia watched in fascination as Isobella nodded at her, only three years older than she, nursing her son with a contented smile upon her face. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. Just as he had told Gerald would be the case, there was nothing of interest to hear, especially as he had met the girl in London only last night. “You!” said Ann Veronica. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. "Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "Forgive you—bless you!" she gasped. She could think of nothing more to say.
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