He had more time for her. “Just remember, I have to make this up to you. ” “You would let him—knowing—all that you know?” “Why not? She is my flesh and blood. ” She commanded. There was nothing left now of the selfassured, prosperous man of affairs. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. Ann Veronica was not aware of this literary side of her teacher; she had a little tinge of annoyance at Miss Garvice’s advantage. If my conjectures are right, this boy would stay there indefinitely.
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