He dressed rather after the fashion of the West End than the City, and affected a cultured urbanity that somehow disconcerted and always annoyed Ann Veronica’s father extremely. He leapt down into the haha surrounding the terrace, and saw that the nun was there also and backing towards him, anxiously checking now and then above the level of the terrace. Her face reminded him of a delicate unglazed porcelain cup, filled with blond wine. . He was not sure that the boy had put himself beyond the pale; merely, the boy's actions pointed that way. She approached this field with her usual liveliness of apprehension. ‘That’s my pet name. But you are Annabel. And when she went to sleep, then always Capes became the novel and wonderful guest of her dreams.
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