” “For you. ” Elizabeth, the parlormaid, kept coming in to hand vegetables whenever there seemed a chance of Ann Veronica asking for an interview. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. See paragraph 1. The chance had gone. They made a stratum into which Ann Veronica was now plunged up to her neck; it had become her stratum. She’d prefer that I read classic literature, of course, but she only reads paperback romance novels, so she can’t exactly complain. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. ” “A sort of history,” said Mr.
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