How the deuce did I ever manage to father such a brainless nincompoop? A nun, for God’s sake! A confounded Catholic nun. “Lucy, I have to talk to you. Sir John heard gossip about us—about Anna the recluse, a paragon of virtue, and Annabel alias ‘Alcide’ a dancer at the cafés chantants, and concerning whom there were many stories which were false, and a few—which were true. Instead, he could not get beyond these minor details—why she wore the dress, whence she had come, and whither she was bound. Her gown was minimalist compared to those concoctions of boning and lace of long ago, she reflected, but that did not stop it from getting caught on 134 brambles and twigs. . ” He receded from her. “How can you know?” “I think—perhaps I am rather a cold-blooded person.
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