“And now,” said Ann Veronica surveying her apartment with an unprecedented sense of proprietorship, “what is the next step?” She spent the evening in writing—it was a little difficult—to her father and— which was easier—to the Widgetts. “Why are you so distant? Why all the mystery? What are you, a narc? Double-oh-seven or something?” She steeled herself, refusing to react. ‘You don’t know the whole, child. So I introduced him to my father-in-law like a shot. I did not lay any traps for her. A drunken idea, Ah Cum had called it. For I still love her mother. But when she was thinking it over in her room that evening vague and baffling doubts came drifting across this conviction. All the sombre visions she had been pressing back, fighting out of her thoughts, swarmed over the barrier and crushed her. All this— the island and its affairs—was an old story; but her own peculiar distaste had vanished to a point imperceptible, for she was seeing the island through her husband's eyes, as in the future she would see all things. The wine bubbled and seethed; and the exquisite bouquet of oranges permeated the room. Bird,—who was rushing up stairs, alarmed by Mr. "I'm not particular about rooms. ’ ‘You surprise me. Capes had altered scarcely at all during the interval, except for a new quality of smartness in the cut of his clothes, but Ann Veronica was nearly half an inch taller; her face was at once stronger and softer, her neck firmer and rounder, and her carriage definitely more womanly than it had been in the days of her rebellion.
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