Part 2 In the late afternoon, as Ann Veronica was gathering flowers for the dinnertable, her father came strolling across the lawn toward her with an affectation of great deliberation. Wood. The perfume was the only one she ever used. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. She listened, her suspicions confirmed. ’ ‘Lord, yes,’ agreed Gerald, in mock horror. "As I could wish!" cried Jonathan. The theme was a masquerade. But he tells them that I am a spy.
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