They must have a key. Part 4 At eight that evening Miss Stanley tapped at Ann Veronica’s bedroom door. ’ ‘You speak it very well,’ Gerald said encouragingly. She let go of him and stood up, straightening herself. This too shall pass. She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. Gerald watched its approach with vague interest, which quickened when he saw that it was drawing up outside the very house out of which he had just stepped. No: I must face it out. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. “Better state of mind,” she gasped.
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