He had come to Anna’s rooms from a dinner party, and he was in evening dress. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. She seemed tense when not playing, he noted, more so than she had during the first two pieces. I have been the vicomte’s secretary, remember. ” “Anything except that,” he murmured. Anna herself opened the hall door. “I want to inquire,” said Ann Veronica. Dieu du ciel! Gerald was kissing her! She struggled to be free, and the arms that held her loosened, the lips leaving hers. She found her foster father and Mike still awake, playing high stakes UNO at the dimly lit kitchen table.
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