Except for one memorable school excursion to Paris, Ann Veronica had never yet been outside England. A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date. Instead, her husband was probably wise. . He was about to cut the sergeant short, when his eye fell on a gentleman walking along Piccadilly, his manner uncertain, his eyes shifting as if he sought something out. Cool and sunny, it seemed that God himself smiled upon that day, the sunbeams streaming through the magnificent arches dustily as the priest murmured in soporific Latin. It was Ennison, who loomed up through the shadows. Did you know you’re very maternal? Damn, you’re more maternal than my Mom. 265 The madness crept around her like smoke under a door.
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