“He couldn’t look me in the face and say it,” said Ann Veronica. He noted the strong white teeth as they snipped the thread. Her thoughts took words for themselves. The man’s statement was explicit, and spoken with confidence. Instead, they lived a Bohemian existence, moving from patron to patron, city to city. She was almost tempted to tell him, if only to see the cracks of surprise and incredulity break the immobility of his yellow countenance. I had not seen the courtyard in many years and I was happy to dream of those times. Shari proceeded to paint, brush, dust, slather, and blot Lucy’s face with makeup. We shall both, I hope, live to enjoy our shares—long after Thames Darrell is forgotten—ha! ha! A third of your estate I accept. “Call me Annabel.
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