What CAN she put before that?” His voice began to rise. Shall we sit outside and drink a petit verre of something to give us an appetite while dinner is being prepared?” “Certainly not,” she answered. The ribald demons that infested the back of Ann Veronica’s mind urged various facetious interrogations upon her, as, for example, where the witness had acquired his prose style. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. An admirable alternative presented itself and she sighed, spreading her hands. Sheppard was enabled to take possession of the premises. Supper was quickly served; the oldest bottle of wine was brought from the cellar; the strongest barrel of ale was tapped; but not one of the party could eat or drink—their hearts were too full. “But, forgive me, you are tired.
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