Pews had been brought in and set in two rows before the huge table, covered in white cloth, that formed the altar at the far end. Ann Veronica was one of the few young people—and one must have young people just as one must have flowers—one could ask to a little gathering without the risk of a painful discord. She cried for hours but would not scream as her mother was packed into a marble coffin. Instead of English villas and cottages there were chalets and Italian-built houses shining white; there were lakes of emerald and sapphire and clustering castles, and such sweeps of hill and mountain, such shining uplands of snow, as she had never seen before. The curve of his shoulders, the very angle of his feet, expressed relief at her apparent obedience. She hadn't measured up; she had been stupid; she hadn't known how to make love. "Before to-morrow morning I will ascertain what has become of Thames, or perish in the attempt. I needed a man the worst kind of way—a man I could keep for at least six months.
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