She tied the obi clumsily about her waist, then gently laid her hand on the bowed head. It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. She would have to leave very soon. She pulled his shirt from its tucked belted state and snaked her hands around his waist. “I have come from a very unfashionable quarter,” she said, “and I do not think that I have been inside a milliner’s shop for a year. Men of action by the scarlet coats with their grey facings—insignia of the county militia. “In private. Lost me place, that’s all. “I don’t care,” said Ann Veronica. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and trimmed with lace. By that time it seemed to them they had lived together twenty years. But there was something else; and in his befogged mental state the comparison eluded him.
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