She could run away from him, if she wished, as she had run away from her father; she could carry out the original adventure. There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score. Ann Veronica’s universe, which had never been altogether so respectful to her as she could have wished, gave a shout and whirled head over heels. Priests and princes sought his knowledge of languages and philosophy and wantonly tried to throw themselves into his bed. She spoke with an entirely false note of cheerful offhandedness. ’ ‘That is what you thought of me.
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