Anna was having tea by herself when she entered. Scarcely any one noticed the full measure of her consternation. "I would treat him as you treated his father, Sir Rowland. He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. The old man Pottiswick, still grumbling, much to Melusine’s disgust, had gone on his errand to his daughter’s house some two miles distant. A militiaman came belting down the stairs, another leapt from outside the front door, and a third, stalwart and stolid, came in through the door that led to the rooms to the front of the house. Sheppard, and neither deserve nor desire your thanks. The Widgetts talked with a remarkable absence of external coverings; the Palsworthys found all the meanings of life on its surfaces. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate.
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