Lucy could see Diane’s clear dislike of her, the foster background she had come from, and the single mysterious episode with the police that had inflamed the gossips from all the corners of town. Then he slapped his hand on his desk and looked up with the air of a man struck by a brilliant idea. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess.
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