” Ann Veronica read this letter through with grave, attentive eyes. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. The bridge was protected on either side by a railing with bannisters placed at wide intervals. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture. ” She gazed at him. He stood outside of the car, bewildered, as she walked up to the BMW’s front bumper.
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