The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. “We’ll go to a place where we can have a private room,” he said. He grunted a little with effort, and she realised the gilt frame must be heavy. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. Capes had altered scarcely at all during the interval, except for a new quality of smartness in the cut of his clothes, but Ann Veronica was nearly half an inch taller; her face was at once stronger and softer, her neck firmer and rounder, and her carriage definitely more womanly than it had been in the days of her rebellion. ’ She bestowed a dazzling smile on Roding, who had reddened to the gills at these words. ‘Eh bien, I will tell you.
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