Selfishness. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. He came in with his hands in his trousers pockets and a general air of depression in his bearing. Not one of them but bore the marks of having been engaged in a recent and severe conflict. The quarry had passed out into the open sea. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child. At the opening of the van doors and the emergence into the fresh air Ann Veronica’s doubt and depression gave place to the wildest exhilaration. Once a thriving town before the Pestilence, most of the buildings and the piers had been destroyed or burned. I’ve never muffed an exam yet. After all, life had still its pulsations. ‘She won’t confide in you? Now, why?’ ‘Because that scoundrel Leonardo drummed it into her head that no man was to be trusted,’ Gerald announced viciously. She was crushed with a sense of her own terrible impotency.
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