‘As for your dagger—’ She held out her hand palm up, as if she expected him to give her the weapon. She had not felt comfortable in his presence from the first, and with Leonardo’s precepts in mind, was loath to trust him. The vote is only the beginning, the necessary beginning. Ann Veronica sat back in an attitude of inattention, her eyes on a distant game of cricket, her mind perplexed and busy. The response of her body was enough that she lazily opened her eyes. “Do you mean, aunt,” she asked, “that my father thought I had gone off—with some man?” “What else COULD he think? Would any one DREAM you would be so mad as to go off alone?” “After—after what had happened the night before?” “Oh, why raise up old scores? If you could see him this morning, his poor face as white as a sheet and all cut about with shaving! He was for coming up by the very first train and looking for you, but I said to him, ‘Wait for the letters,’ and there, sure enough, was yours. ‘I said you were sympathique,’ she told him.
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