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“Veronique!” she cried with a rising intonation, though never before had she called Ann Veronica anything but Miss Stanley, and seized her and squeezed her and kissed her with profound emotion. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. And, to show you that I have no intention of flying, I will myself close and lock the door. That is why I am glad that she has gone to London. ‘Have no fear,’ he uttered soothingly, reaching out to pat her free hand. She was making it up. She took it for granted Ann Veronica wore stays—mild stays, perhaps, but stays, and thought no more of the matter. The arm about her was steel hard, and she felt the weapon that was placed at her heart, which thumped uncomfortably in her chest. If you don’t eat humble-pie now you may live to fare worse later.
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