‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. That did not sound like the name the young man had offered in the tower of the water-clock. “Parmesan—take it away!” He glanced at Ann Veronica’s face, and it seemed to him that she really was exceptionally radiant. Another long interval elapsed. It did not matter that he wore the cloth; something was wrong with him. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand.
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