It is the horse of the priest, you understand, and—and he does not know that I have borrowed it. He was in evening dress: swallow-tailed coat and white tie. ” “Of course you don’t,” said Miss Miniver, gesticulating triumphantly with her thin hand and thinner wrist, and patting Ann Veronica’s knee. “I did it for love of you,” he said. ‘Aye, miss, like a shadow. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. Stanley decided to treat that as irrelevant. “Let me hasten,” she said, “to reassure you.
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