His curiosity put itself into a question. ” “Borrow the money! But who lent you the money?” “A friend,” said Ann Veronica. Miss Stanley, it was manifest, had given him Ann Veronica’s address. Another car followed, a rusty Cadillac sedan full of kids. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. Water soaked her through in five minutes. Two hours had come and gone during this tantalizing occupation. Nor was he long in making it available. Lucy thought of a song that she had not been able to get out of her head since the Fifties. Aunt and niece regarded each other silently.
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