“I suppose I fell in love with her, Ann Veronica. ‘Quick, Gérard. Her fingers passed over a cunningly wrought surface of wood, with just the correct amount of protrusion, the precise colours of dyed leather, and cleverly gilded surfaces and neatly painted lettering. Her sister Alice seemed to have developed a religious sense away there in Yorkshire, and made appeals that had no meaning for Ann Veronica’s mind. A beachcomber in embryo, and she had lent a hand through habit as much as through pity. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes.
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