The Bitchster strikes again. He came to the door and as he opened it a crack, she pushed herself inside urgently. 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. She wanted him so badly it hurt. She had never been so happy to vomit. Gerald looked at it, then at her face. “My dear Miss Pellissier,” he said impressively, “this is an unexpected pleasure.
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