He reached for her and she stroked his head soothingly as his mother had done a few times when he had suffered bad fevers. Then he rallied, smiling a little. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman. So that Ann Veronica was not able to get the expert advice she certainly needed upon her spiritual state. Again the chalky pallor spread even to her lips, her eyes became lit with the old terror. “Great.
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