Ann Veronica pushed aside a tea-cup and the vestiges of her strawberries and cream, and put her elbows before her on the table. “Never was such an age of transition. And yet—Wait a little, you’d better have every bit of it. Besides—there is Sir John. At that time, we were beneath the sway of Anne: we are now at the commencement of the reign of George the First. As the Wastrel played, Spurlock knew that the man saw the inevitable end—death by drink; saw the glory of the things he had thrown away, the past, once so full of promise. That blow made me a thief. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. 133 “TRY ME!” He yelled, his voice booming into the cacophony beyond the walls. ‘On the contrary,’ Gerald argued, frowning. Then before she could say a word to arrest him he was at her side.
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