The ragged edge. ‘Will you let be?’ Instead she grasped his hand tighter. Again silence. They were drenched with water and suds. She could still feel his psychic presence all around her, and she knew he was thinking of her. 82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. Her aunt returned before the packing was done, and Ann Veronica lunched with an uneasy sense of bag and hold-all packed up-stairs and inadequately hidden from chance intruders by the valance of the bed.
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