Remote little Ann Veronica! She would never know the heart of that child again! That child had loved fairy princes with velvet suits and golden locks, and she was in love with a real man named Capes, with little gleams of gold on his cheek and a pleasant voice and firm and shapely hands. ‘Tie a horse behind the carriage?’ he echoed incredulously. Nuns, I mean. Or was that perhaps because his business in Piccadilly the other day had gone awry? Perhaps Brewis Charvill had not welcomed him with open arms. Be a good wife to him. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. “You, anyhow, don’t deserve it,” he said.
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