. ’ Her conversation was wonderful, Gerald decided. “I don’t know,” said Ann Veronica; “I think I am. "Is it you?" "It is," replied Sheppard, as he untied the cords. She made a slow tour of the front of the house without success, and then started back along the rooms behind, dragging open the drapes each time to get just enough light to recognise what was on the walls. She was trying to adjust the wimple, dragging at it and fighting with her loosened hair. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. “I am sure,” she said, “that you mean to stay until you are turned out.
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