That it provided proof of the girl’s identity was one thing. She was the social leader of Morningside Park, and in her superficial and euphuistic way an extremely kind and pleasant woman. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. “You cowards!” said Ann Veronica, “put her down!” and tore herself from a detaining hand and battered with her fists upon the big red ear and blue shoulder of the policeman who held the little old lady. ‘You will have to prove it, you know,’ Gerald said quietly.
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