To think of him as loving her would make all that different. When I think of those ateliers of ours, the art jargon, the decadents with their flamboyant talk I long for a twoedged sword and a minute of Divinity. Even now she could trace the outline of his shape behind the left-hand curtain. He accepted this confession conditionally: that no young man had kissed her. Of course, he had no idea who I was. The wretch you confide in has sworn to hang you. She recognized the cloth at once, waylaid him, and with that directness of speech particularly hers she explained what she wanted. “I am afraid that you are making a mistake. ” There followed an instant’s pause, and then Ann Veronica had decided to misunderstand.
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