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She ignored it until it repeated itself. Ann Veronica jumped up to get her the cardtable. E. Charvill’s fury was burning out. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. ‘Do you think I do not know? What am I doing here, do you think?’ ‘That’s just exactly what I’ve been asking myself,’ he returned. The remainder of dinner was surreal and stilted. That her husband was not touching her anymore grew to be like a disease, something to be cured. They must be for your father. I’ve been wondering where she got her dogged will, and that hot-headed adventurous spirit, for it wasn’t from either Mary or Nicholas, that’s sure. ’ ‘Precisely,’ Gerald repeated.
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