She answered him with another kiss, long and deep. She had come to despise those who were fertile out of pure jealousy, but could not admit it to herself. They were those of the Irish watchman. ‘But don’t let me stop you from going to see Charvill. Away up on the hillside was the little country railway station. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. Everything I could do! Your father sat up all night. He took her fingers and lifted his eyes to hers. “Please hurry. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica.
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