Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. “I want to ask you a question,” she said abruptly. “Why could you not confide in us?” “Do what?” said Ann Veronica. Their flitting hands were always touching. Father and daughter regarded each other warily, each more than a little insecure with the other. " "You are heiress to the Trenchard property," rejoined Jonathan, "one of the largest estates in Lancashire. ” Brendon rushed to the piano and strummed out a tune.
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