“Mary Lucia. Suffer me to precede you. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. Oh, goodness! Bilking! Ann Veronica, you’re a bilker!” Pause. “You can count upon me, Nigel,” she said. It would have been a crisis anyhow, but it was complicated in Ann Veronica’s mind by the fact that a letter lay on the breakfast-table from Mr. Nine years ago, I worked in this very house—had a kind indulgent master, whom I robbed—twice robbed, at your instigation, villain; a mistress, whom you have murdered; a companion, whose friendship I have for ever forfeited; a mother, whose heart I have well-nigh broken.
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