“You’ve no right to badger me like this, Veronica,” he said. Swinging her arm in an arc, she let go of the foil and it flew across the chapel towards the main door, crashing down between the pews, and clattering onto the floor. She would not sleep for fear of losing a moment of that sense of his proximity. Her aunt returned before the packing was done, and Ann Veronica lunched with an uneasy sense of bag and hold-all packed up-stairs and inadequately hidden from chance intruders by the valance of the bed. But she doesn’t and won’t divorce me.
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