Her aunt had a once exasperating habit of interrupting her work with demands for small household services, but now Ann Veronica rendered them with a queer readiness of anticipatory propitiation. They talked across their meal in an easy and friendly manner about Ann Veronica’s affairs. He had bled everywhere, but she had struck when the opportunity was ripe. The necessity of defending herself and assuming a confident and secure tone did much to dispell the sense of being exposed and indefensible in a huge dingy world that abounded in sinister possibilities. Although she did not understand why he persisted in this pursuit of her affairs. My wife—killed me. Did you ever go by any other names, ma’am?” “Yes.
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