But she could not live in constant association with him without having these gaps filled. "You forgot your lunch," she said. "Go on. " "My God!" cried Trenchard, stunned by the intelligence, "I have killed her. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. It was, Ann Veronica felt, as a sip or so of that remarkable blend warmed her blood, just the sort of thing that her aunt would not approve, to be lunching thus, tete-a-tete with a man; and yet at the same time it was a perfectly innocent as well as agreeable proceeding. .
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