For a time Ann Veronica’s attention was diverted by her aunt’s interest in the salted almonds. Servants were passing backwards and forwards with tea and chocolate. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. ’ Melusine hit lightly at his chest. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. “We will see that he doesn’t follow you. Nobody toys with me.
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