‘I beg your pardon?’ said Gerald. She could see that she was now the exclusive object of the boy’s attention. Every inch of the house felt safe to her, small and welcoming. She ran down alleyways and between buildings, faster than an Olympian, until she could hear his voice no more. A bowl of roses, just brought by Ann Veronica, adorned the communal dressing-table, and Ann Veronica was particularly trim in preparation for a call she was to make with her aunt later in the afternoon. But some little distance behind him, someone had come out from the shadow of the building and, seeing the Frenchman reappear, darted back again as quickly.
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