“Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. ” He stood before the door. His shoulders were bent, his face was furrowed with wrinkles. She felt her own body stir, ready for more. “You’ve no right to badger me like this, Veronica,” he said. He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. "Mother, I come to you. Who says that I am not Meysey Hill? I was trying to scare you. 9. ” “I can’t go back to the Beck’s ever again.
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