Ann Veronica found herself in a little stirring crowd of excited women, whispering and tittering and speaking in undertones. Her hair was gathered up behind, in a sort of pad, according to the then prevailing mode; and she wore a muslin cap, and pinners with crow-foot edging. She dismissed the whole subject with a little shrug of the shoulders. That’s really our choice now, defy—or futility. Did he track her? She was unaware if he did. The warm September sun fell strongly on this part of the grounds, uninterrupted by trees, its light bouncing off the glass in the mansion’s walls. Lucy saw that perhaps she had been attracted to Martin all along. He’s waiting.
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