Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. And, in addition, she was now seeing and talking to Ramage almost weekly, on a theory which she took very gravely, that they were exceptionally friends. She thought of her aunt and that purse that was dropped on the table, and of many troublesome and ill-requited kindnesses; she thought of the help of the Widgetts, of Teddy’s admiration; she thought, with a new-born charity, of her father, of Manning’s conscientious unselfishness, of Miss Miniver’s devotion. This woman knows me—’ throwing the remark at Lucilla ‘—and that I am the daughter of Mary Remenham.
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