The simile started a laugh in his throat. Glancing idly up at her own window as they had swung round the corner she had seen a strange thing. The warm September sun fell strongly on this part of the grounds, uninterrupted by trees, its light bouncing off the glass in the mansion’s walls. A spacious suite of rooms down the hall John described as “my parents love den” with a grimace as Lucy smiled. If I had never met anything of you at all but a scrap of your skin binding a book, Ann Veronica, I know I would have kept that somewhere near to me. “YOU wouldn’t like to be independent?” he asked, abruptly. ‘Now what?’ The girl’s voice was shaking, and there were, he saw now, angry tears in her eyes.
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