“I suppose I fell in love with her, Ann Veronica. ’ Hilary’s gaze was raking the room. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. ” “Does she have to sell her soul to the Devil?” Lucy asked, feeling stupid. Loneliness. “I am not sure,” Anna answered. Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent. As they passed beneath the thick trees that shade the road to Dollis Hill, the gloom was almost impenetrable. Then one old crone, short-sighted and shaky-handed, called Ann Veronica “dearie,” and made some remark, obscure and slangy, of which the spirit rather than the words penetrated to her understanding. “I cannot say more. But if he speaks—I fear what he may tell. At least I can give you a glimmer. ” “McCloskey. Lady Angela shrugged her shoulders. .
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