“It is a great art,” she said in broken English. Annabel shook her head. “You’re not interested in politics?” he asked, almost with a note of protest. Was this the right moment? After what she had said about Jarvis Remenham’s habits, he could do with more information before he revealed his purpose. For a few days she was fascinated by the place, exploring the moldy rooms, the weird treasures hiding in forgotten trousseaus. Ann Veronica watched her face, vaguely sympathizing with her, vaguely disliking her physical insufficiency and her convulsive movements, and the fine eyebrows were knit with a faint perplexity. Sheppard.
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