” “It isn’t precisely faults,” said Ann Veronica. I suppose it is the mirrors and decorations. ” She drove off in a little fiacre, nodding and smiling at Sir John, who remained upon the Avenue. ‘What else was there to do? He paid off the servants and left old Pottiswick in charge, saying that the place would have to remain empty until the heir was found. She found she was trembling at his nearness and full of a thrilling dread that he might touch her. Like a river swollen by many currents, it gathered force from the various avenues that poured their streams into it. Part of her even believed that her mother would have wanted her to stop feeling guilty and to be happy.
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