” “Excuse me,” Mr. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers. “It is just a look. She leaned forward in her chair, as if petrified in fear by the scary story. You understand that term?” Ann Veronica smiled faintly. In the flagged entrance hallway at the bottom, where extra light came in from a window above the double doors, it was easy enough to distinguish a family group, and a landscape which clearly included Remenham House in the distance. It was in another world from that in which men will die for a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance, the world of passionately beautiful things. “Please call me Carol. ‘Soi-disant? Then he is not Valade?’ ‘How can I know?’ she countered crossly. And ever after it struck him that her backward smile as she disappeared was charged with some special significance. “Some day,” she answered.
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