Lucy clutched the pencil in defeat. ” She looked at him quizzically and shrugged. “I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. ’ You mean you hope you do, thought Gerald cynically. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved.
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