Great vistas of history opened, and she and her aunt were near reverting to the primitive and passionate and entirely indecorous arboreal—were swinging from branches by the arms, and really going on quite dreadfully—when their arrival at the Palsworthys’ happily checked this play of fancy, and brought Ann Veronica back to the exigencies of the wrappered life again. She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. Very intelligent, by the looks of the books she was carrying. She put her hand in his to be squeezed. ‘What do you mean to do with her?’ ‘Just keep her talking, that’s all,’ Gerald said quickly. ’ ‘Tchah! Better a doubtful welcome here than a confounded French convent. There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. That’s my advice to you. Well, I am Nigel Ennison’s sister!” “Oh!” Anna said.
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