He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. ’ ‘I am afraid that there is,’ Gerald told her evenly. Oh, it was very bad. For a few minutes all was silent. She might even forgive him. Hilary Roding was all soldier now, his earlier grievances laid aside. “We’re in for it. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. “David,” she said, “you are not a coward, are you?” “I do not know,” he muttered. “It was a phase,” she said. For a few minutes, she appeared scarcely sensible of his presence. You will not find it else. Even her debt to him was a triviality now.
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