A knot of three policemen in conflict with her staggered toward Ann Veronica’s attendants and distracted their attention. Anna opened a cupboard and produced cups and saucers and a tin of coffee. ‘That is what she wants, is it?’ ‘Do you blame her?’ he said stiffly. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. All the fury had left her, swamped by an inexplicable flood of warmth. . He will not help them—and I told Emile so—and thus he sends them to my other grandpére, even that he knows he is dead. The bolder members in the House left their places to go lobbyward, grinning. Eyebrows knitting, she looked towards the ground a few feet away from him, guiltily. And like that gospel it meant something, something different from its phrases, something elusive, and yet something that in spite of the superficial incoherence of its phrasing, was largely essentially true. She had found two copies of the magazine and carefully cut out both photos. What was to happen now? She turned to Roding quickly.
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