Her sleepless night had left her languid but not stupefied, and for an hour or so the work distracted her altogether from her troubles. The Jacobite daws want a scarecrow. It heralded you, promised you. Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. To prevent the leaves from blowing about, should a blow develop, he distributed paper weights. Never did I need a rescue so much. Ann Veronica’s experiences of men had been among more stable types—Teddy, who was always absurd; her father, who was always authoritative and sentimental; Manning, who was always Manning. “I have made over seven hundred pounds in the last week,” he said. YOU did. And now Ann Veronica’s evenings were also becoming very busy. Take it, if I die.
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