Her fingers were bursting through her gloves, as if to get at once into touch with Ann Veronica. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. They stood for a moment in the passage and listened. " "It won't. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. ” “You gave it him well. “You do not know what you say. ” She smiled at him.
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