” “I thought I explained—” “Come home!” Ann Veronica shrugged her shoulders. " "A secret!" exclaimed Trenchard. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. Vorsack would staunchly disapprove of his attire, said nothing anyway. She had been so young then.
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