She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. At this time of day the priest would be at his apartments in Brewer Street, a short walk away from Golden Square which the building overlooked. She had lost her nerve, and there was no more freedom in London for her that night. Wood could not avoid making a slight shuffling sound. ” “Quite true,” she answered briskly, “and thanks to you I have succeeded. But your role would have been to go about saying, ‘I beg your pardon’ in a reproving tone to things you understood quite well in your heart and saw no harm in. The women, Ann Veronica thought, were not quite so interesting as the men.
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