“This is MY thing,” said Ann Veronica, softly, with thoughtful eyes upon him. With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. Lucy could feel blood welling underneath a bump half swelling and already half-healing on her scalp. He bore it as long as he could, watching all the time with fascinated eyes Annabel moving gracefully about amongst her guests, always gay, with a smile and a whisper for nearly everybody. Love, obliterated, annihilated; out of his heart and out of his Bible. The boy’s besotted.
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