I—I don’t understand,” the man faltered wearily. “I didn’t understand, Vee. Lucy was surprised to hear that any party could happen on a week night, but the parents of the house in question were the rich absentee type. Find out what I have done or failed to do. I meant to give him a drubbing. Her hand came up and she laced her fingers with his. She had known that Remenham House would be deserted, for Martha—released, as she had carefully explained to her charge, by her vows to God from servitude and obedience to Nicholas Charvill, a mere mortal—had begun a correspondence with a friend of her youth, Mrs Joan Ibstock, née Pottiswick. You did it on your own?” Ann Veronica smiled. He had hurt her. Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips. “Dinner is served, m’m,” said the efficient parlor-maid in the archway, and the worst was over.
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