Gianfrancesco took her that night gently, for which she was glad. “You’re Glorious!” said Miss Miniver in tones of rapture, holding a hand in each of hers and peering up into Ann Veronica’s face. It had evidently seen better days before being relegated to the ministrations of a hackney coachman, one who evidently served the less affluent inhabitants of London. It was a letter. ‘What is the matter?’ ‘Is there nothing you do not know?’ she asked faintly. She felt the warm nearness of his. She had often wondered if Hoddy would ever go back to it. Twelve years ago! It is an awful retrospect. Winifred, accordingly, left the room, and a servant being despatched to the nearest tavern, soon afterwards returned with a crown bowl of the ambrosian fluid.
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