Wait a second. ” “But Italy—” “Italy’s for a good girl,” he said, and laid his hand for a moment on her shoulder. The women, Ann Veronica thought, were not quite so interesting as the men. Beyond was a chaise longue, covered with cushions and shawls laid anyhow across it, together with a discarded tapestry in the making, and a scattering of woollen threads about it. She addresses you as the Flower of the Lotus, as the Resplendent Moonbeam. A maidservant held the front door open. I had a sort of idea,” he went on, “that you were starting life all over again, and it seemed awfully plucky. It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear.
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