Miss Stanley walked round the garden thinking, and presently house and garden reverberated to Ann Veronica’s slamming of the front door. ‘She didn’t behave in the least like an émigré, if these people are anything to go by. The effort of self-repression cost him a sob. “Who will you stop with?” “I shall go on my own. She heard her husband’s heavy tread descending the stairs, and the wheels of his carriage as he drove off. It was bare of any furnishings. ‘Is he meeting you here then, my dear?’ ‘He had better,’ said Lucilla. “I cannot reason with you,” he said at last wearily. This is a case either of suicide or murder. ‘And I do understand. Very well.
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