’ ‘Yes, I know,’ Gerald put in with an irrepresssible chuckle. The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park. She moved her hand off of his knee, deliberately slow. “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. She had thought that all Morningside Park householders came home before seven at the latest, as her father usually did. . ’ There was a kind of aching hunger in Gerald’s gaze. Her hormones were raging stupidly.
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