The morning of Monday the 16th of November 1724 at length dawned. She wondered why he was so distinctive, so unlike other men, and it never occurred to her for some time that this might be because she was falling in love with him. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. “I don’t love him,” said Ann Veronica, getting a gleam. But it was very hard to follow. ‘You know perfectly well that she is the daughter of the Comtesse de St Erme. Nevertheless she withdrew her hand.
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