“Oh, Veronica!” she said, “to leave your home!” She had been weeping. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. Besides these there was a warm gooseberry-tart, and a cold pigeon pie—the latter capacious enough, even allowing for its due complement of steak, to contain the whole produce of a dovecot; a couple of lobsters and the best part of a salmon swimming in a sea of vinegar, and shaded by a forest of fennel. Sebastian was always a man who felt the need to surround himself with the trappings of the finer life. You don’t know, Anna, but when one is in danger one realizes that the— the other side of the line is Hell. He lowered his voice a little and leaned over towards her. .
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