He handed her a cheque for thirty-one pounds, ten shillings, and read the agreement through to her. He could imagine it even if he could not feel it. Folding his arms, he placed his back against the door, and burst into a loud laugh. The ribald demons that infested the back of Ann Veronica’s mind urged various facetious interrogations upon her, as, for example, where the witness had acquired his prose style. Their future would be glorious; he saw it in their eyes; he saw it in the beauty of their young heads. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. It was cheating, pitiful cheating.
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