As she talked, the drift and significance of what she was saying shaped itself slowly to Ann Veronica’s apprehension. “I wish you would not do it. "Bury her in Willesden churchyard, as she requested, on Sunday," said Jack. Her heart in her mouth, she heard his foot scrape on the floorboard and knew from his expression that Gosse had heard it too. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. Lucy sat beside him. I’m not such a bad sort. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house.
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