So that the thought of Ann Veronica up-stairs had been extremely painful for her through all the silent dinner-time that night. It was evident the lady’s servant knew his mistress, for he had come equipped with a tray upon which reposed a decanter and two glasses. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. And now she was discovering that even Nature was something of a liar, with her mirages and her horizons. “And aren’t there fees to pay at the Imperial College?” her aunt was saying—a disagreeable question. Her fingers were bursting through her gloves, as if to get at once into touch with Ann Veronica.
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