Wood, softening her asperity. ” “You are sure that he asked for me—not for Annabel?” “Certain,” Courtlaw answered. “That’s what we narcs have to do. Ann Veronica, with a sigh at the cost of hospitality, made a hasty negotiation for an extra tea and for a fire in the groundfloor apartment, and preened herself carefully for the interview. It’s Italian. “It is a great art,” she said in broken English. Ann Veronica felt no repulsion at the prospect. She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. This was automatically rather than thoughtfully done; habit.
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