A shaft of searing heat plunged downward. Like the Valades, I imagine. . Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified. “‘A SONG OF LADIES AND MY LADY “‘Saintly white and a lily is Mary, Margaret’s violets, sweet and shy; Green and dewy is Nellie-bud fairy, Forget-me-nots live in Gwendolen’s eye. Anna saw it, and for the first time found herself trembling. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. Perhaps because I don’t know. “What can you do?” she asked.
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