He was staring at her, openly gaping. “Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. “Don’t you think I ought to?” she asked, very submissively. She resolved not to allow him or her hunger detract from the performance at hand, as it would be a special one, an evening to be remembered in the gray days to follow like a precious jewel. Miss Stanley had determined from the outset to have the warmest affection for her youngest niece and to be a second mother in her life—a second and a better one; but she had found much to battle with, and there was much in herself that Ann Veronica failed to understand. Playing became a way of escape. Her hand came up and she laced her fingers with his. Twenty-one, twenty-two. He is extremely old—forty at least—and he has a belly excessively fat. ‘But you said—’ Gerald tutted. E below.
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