She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. Tell me all that happened, one sister-woman to another. He seemed to be trying to understand something very perplexing and elusive. He glanced at Miss Klegg again, and spoke quickly and furtively, with eager eyes on Ann Veronica’s face. If I’d meant it, my girl, you’d be dead meat.
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