And here you are!” Her aunt opened all the fingers of her gloved hand in a rhetorical gesture. Miss Stanley reflected on this proposal for a moment. He refused. Miss Stanley threw aside a black cloak to reveal a discreet and dignified arrangement of brown silk, and then embraced Ann Veronica with warmth. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. She heard her husband’s heavy tread descending the stairs, and the wheels of his carriage as he drove off. "His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford. That won’t involve references, as a bank account would—and all that sort of thing.
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