That would be an unkind twist of fate. The latch had not fully caught. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face. “Frightful lot of things aren’t settled,” said Ann Veronica. He must not in any way call their attention to it. The both of them puttering about the tidy two-story house, Lucy would serve them both steaming cups of tea in the front parlor. All of us were fussy, colicky babies from what she tells me. We have a great deal to discuss, you and I. I hope you won’t mind if I say first that I think it does me an extraordinary honor that you should think of any one like myself so highly and seriously, and, secondly, that I wish it had not been written. Indeed, it is rather a matter of whose death is close.
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