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Ann Veronica sat back in an attitude of inattention, her eyes on a distant game of cricket, her mind perplexed and busy. ” “Why? What did Missy ever do to piss her off? What did I do?” Lucy asked, growing defensive. The theme was a masquerade. More than half the city perished. All the same, I wish I had that fellow by the throat! Just the virile, unregenerate man in me wishes that. Abruptly she desisted, recoiled, and turned and fled up-stairs. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes.
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