“Earning a salary!” “You’re like a Princess in Exile!” he repeated, overruling her. It was impulsive and natural. “I mean to,” she replied. Annabel believed it, came to England and married Sir John. Beneath the hood it was evident that her rebellious hair was bound up with red silk, and fastened by some device in her ears (unless she had them pierced, which was too dreadful a thing to suppose!) were long brass filigree earrings. It was, Ann Veronica felt, as a sip or so of that remarkable blend warmed her blood, just the sort of thing that her aunt would not approve, to be lunching thus, tete-a-tete with a man; and yet at the same time it was a perfectly innocent as well as agreeable proceeding. At luncheon, on the third day, a thick-set man with a blue jaw smiled across his table at her.
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