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” “Not long ago,” she said, “you left me in anger, partly because of this exchange of identities between Annabel and myself. The ledge, along which he crawled, was about a foot wide. " He started to pick up a sheet of manuscript, but she pushed him from the table toward the doorway; and he staggered out of the bungalow, suddenly stretched his arms, and broke into a trot. But—It’s just this: who was to be hurt?” “I wish no one had to be hurt,” said Ann Veronica. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon.
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