Part 9 The realization that she was in love flooded Ann Veronica’s mind, and altered the quality of all its topics. There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor. She felt very cool as he opened the door for her, as if she should have chic sunglasses and stiletto heels on, dark red lipstick. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. “You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. “I don’t care what any one thinks,” said Ann Veronica. For hours he seemed to have pleasant dreams of open skies and airplanes, but then the dreams would disintegrate into fleshy charnel house nightmares where he could hear her calling to him through a fog. My garden-close would be a better thing than that. But tell her this, too. Years ago I marked out an intinerary for myself; but the trip never materialized. I don’t know. Very romantic and all that.
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