” So they talked on whilst supper was served, falling easily into the spirit of the place, and yet both of them conscious of some new thing underlying the gaiety of their tongues and manner. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. She had worried in fear that the excitement would be too much for him. “I knew you would begin to see how it all falls into place together. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy.
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