” Even in the glamour of Miss Brett’s assurance it seemed to Ann Veronica that this was, after all, no more than the gospel of Miss Miniver with a new set of resonances. Was there anything at all in those locked rooms of her aunt’s mind? Were they fully furnished and only a little dusty and cobwebby and in need of an airing, or were they stark vacancy except, perhaps, for a cockroach or so or the gnawing of a rat? What was the mental equivalent of a rat’s gnawing? The image was going astray. They would be partners only in loneliness. One might have said that these trees grieved for their native soil; and, grieving, refused to bear. Don’t imagine that. After these dinners they would have a walk, usually to the Thames Embankment to see the two sweeps of river on either side of Waterloo Bridge; and then they would part at Westminster Bridge, perhaps, and he would go on to Waterloo. CHAPTER XIII. Turning now, and running down the terrace. ‘Why don’t you?’ Melusine frowned at him, grasping the dagger more firmly. He guided himself between her legs. “You need a reason.
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