“My dear,” she began, with an affectionate hand on Ann Veronica’s shoulder, “I do SO wish you would realize how it grieves your father. “Don’t!” she begged. “To Paris! But why? What do you hope to discover there?” “I do not know,” he answered, “but I am going to see David Courtlaw. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. "My wife and daughter, Sir," said the carpenter, introducing them to his guest. ” “I say,” she reflected, “you ARE rather the master, you know.
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