\" Now it was Michelle’s turn to laugh. I'll tell you what. He put it carefully aside, resolved to defer the attempt till night. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. Then, very awkwardly, he took a stool and placed it at the end of Ann Veronica’s table, and sat down. ‘Jarvis Remenham was your mother’s father. In the chapel she sang with an open-lunged gusto that silenced Ann Veronica altogether, and in the exercising-yard slouched round with carelessly dispersed feet. ‘It does not matter, Jacques.
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