‘I’ll take wine,’ the lady said briefly, turning back instantly to Hilary. She laid her hand upon his arm. “NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. She had suddenly become as the jewels of the Madonna, as the idol's eye, infinitely beyond his reach, sacred. ‘And that object confirms me in the belief that it is not I who will shortly meet my maker. I don’t know. We can’t. But calmer thoughts quickly succeeded. Others who have done, have found you false. The nurse sent for him as soon as she saw that you were conscious.
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