She would have to leave very soon. But escape to where? She thought of the ships that sailed from the peninsulas to hot deserts where spices were traded. Ann Veronica pushed aside a tea-cup and the vestiges of her strawberries and cream, and put her elbows before her on the table. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. ‘His wife? Pah!’ ‘You’re saying she is not his wife?’ ‘I am saying nothing. “MY DEAR VERONICA,—Your aunt tells me you have involved yourself in some arrangement with the Widgett girls about a Fancy Dress Ball in London.
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