Part 2 In the late afternoon, as Ann Veronica was gathering flowers for the dinnertable, her father came strolling across the lawn toward her with an affectation of great deliberation. “Next door,” said a spectacled young person of seventeen or eighteen, with an impatient indication of the direction. Free, there is nothing left to her but the canal. ‘Do not move, messieurs, or I shall be compelled to blow off your head. Someone was coming out of the house. She seemed honestly glad to see him. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. Her gown was minimalist compared to those concoctions of boning and lace of long ago, she reflected, but that did not stop it from getting caught on 134 brambles and twigs. The knight and his followers crossed the threshold, leaving one of the torch-bearers behind them.
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