‘Yes, I thought you’d say that. ” “I had to,” she repeated. Jonathan Wild brought him off. ‘This, as you see, is an identity for your cousin, André Valade. “It’s odd,” said Ann Veronica, re-entering the flat. There was a Greyhound bus that she was overdue to ride. She made noises between weeping and laughter as she went. The vestry door opened to the mews behind, and not to Golden Square. The glass in the windows was broken—the roof unthatched—the walls dilapidated. It was bare of any furnishings. Wood had retired to his own room, where he had just summoned Thames. “You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. One or the other. ” “You have not told me yet,” Annabel said, “how it is that you have dared to personate me.
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