Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. ‘If you shoot me,’ Gerald said quickly, throwing out a hand, ‘I shan’t be able to rescue you. Her English was halting. What about your real mother? Wasn’t she also a foster child? Michelle told me that she was suspected of murder, some people named McFerrin, McDougal. Even then she had understood vaguely that she had touched upon some philosophy of life: that one was never lonely when alone, only in the midst of crowds. Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess.
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