Part 4 At eight that evening Miss Stanley tapped at Ann Veronica’s bedroom door. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. They talked across their meal in an easy and friendly manner about Ann Veronica’s affairs. It engulfed them in black, white, and gray. The brilliant sunshine poured through the window, effecting an oblong block of mote-swimming light. ‘Don’t, miss,’ uttered the boy. ‘I have Joan to tell me how much I look like Mary. But go thither at once, I beseech you, before he has time to remove them. “You are magnificent,” she said, “but the steel of your truth is a little oversharpened. The last observation, however, caught the attention of the carpenter's wife. Part 2 Ann Veronica Stanley was twenty-one and a half years old. 70 <9> A MARRIAGE, PART II She dreamt of the inn they had stopped at after her suicide attempt, the flea-ridden hostel her husband had angrily toted her to after the incident at the country house.
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