Gosse! Dieu du ciel, but how did he get into the convent? She had perforce to obey his command, for speech was impossible. After all, what can it matter? It was just to make sure. Her aunt returned before the packing was done, and Ann Veronica lunched with an uneasy sense of bag and hold-all packed up-stairs and inadequately hidden from chance intruders by the valance of the bed. She was noisy and hilarious and enthusiastic, and her hair was always abominably done. Women, she had been taught, who exposed the flesh of their bodies under the eyes of man were in a special catagory of the damned. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. Arrived in the plantation she sat down with her back against a tree trunk.
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