Ann Veronica, who knew her dress became her, dropped a curtsy to her father’s regard. She turned quickly. She was alarmed at how little her husband Gianfrancesco packed for the trip, leaving behind his best scarlet and black lucco, which he wore for every business and political meeting. The parlour was cluttered but cosy. “Through there,” he said, and pointed with the pamphlet he was carrying. She felt like Snow White in a secret forest house populated by dwarves. I’ll have to think of something else. And now YOU’RE on the war-path. ’ She focused on Gerald’s face.
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