They talked across their meal in an easy and friendly manner about Ann Veronica’s affairs. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. Her head rose. His hand traveled below her loose neckline, and he cupped her round breast in his hand. ‘It had better not be, by God,’ had barked Captain Hilary Roding. It wouldn’t be you. The atmosphere seemed heavy with the odour of drugs. A young man, who had been spending the last hour walking up and down on the opposite side of the way, came quickly over to her. She gurgled.
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