“Look here, Ann Veronica,” he began. ‘Never trust a gun in female hands,’ grumbled Hilary, dropping the nun’s habit and backing to join his friend. It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. ‘C’est à dire, I would say from my father only comes the English. But at last this ordeal was over, and Ramage opened the door. Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. ‘Sir?’ enquired the lad. ” “YOU know,” said Ann Veronica. There was no rush.
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