So while he talked to this girl of work and freedom, his slightly protuberant eyes were noting the gracious balance of her limbs and body across the gate, the fine lines of her chin and neck. ” “I’ve been clearing up,” said Ann Veronica, brightly. Their flitting hands were always touching. ‘Sir?’ enquired the lad. John’s father added cheerfully, “So, do you play any violin?” She balked at the stereotype, but admitted, “Yes, I play violin. ” She stood up and held her arms toward him. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips.
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