Part 5 Yet Ann Veronica was thinking a very great deal about love. The theme was a masquerade. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. It would be useless to tell her to go back, even heartless; and yet he could not advise her to go on, blindly, not knowing whether her aunt was dead or alive. Pah!’ She flounced about and, crossing to the bed, plonked down on it, pointedly averting her face and resting the large pistol in her lap. ” “There’s green-fly,” admitted Ann Veronica.
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