Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. ’ Gerald noted the mixture of respect and apprehension in the glance he received from the boy. “Is it any one you know?” Brendon asked. The movement was then in its earlier militant phases, and one of the women only, Miss Garvice, opposed it, though Ann Veronica was disposed to be lukewarm. His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti. “Why, it’s David!” he exclaimed.
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