Her husband finally relented. This was just what he needed. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. Wood gave the required promise, though he could not help thinking that if either of them had cause to be jealous he was the party. Grace, confidence, the power of movement even, seemed gone from her. You don’t know the thoughts we have; the things we can do and say. “Yes. This lover of yours—” “He doesn’t know!” cried Ann Veronica. ‘Possibly,’ he said. I wonder if you will mind very much when I tell you they were suggested by you.
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