207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. She had not felt comfortable in his presence from the first, and with Leonardo’s precepts in mind, was loath to trust him. “And children must we women bear— “Oh, damn!” she cried, as the hundred-and-first couplet or so presented itself in her unwilling brain. The crowning aspect of the incident, for her mind, was the discovery that he and her indiscretion with him no longer mattered very much. D. Ann Veronica’s universe, which had never been altogether so respectful to her as she could have wished, gave a shout and whirled head over heels. But I've stacks of books and a grand piano-player. You, Anna, are one of them. He glanced up at Roding and met his eyes. “That’s a weird name. But I was portentous, I can assure you. Each time that we meet I try to kill you.
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