He wondered why she thought love made people happy, and began to talk of the smilax and pinks that adorned the table. He had invited himself to dine with her merely to watch her table manners. “What a gloomy person you are!” she murmured. “You understand, then,” he was saying, “you understand?” “I understand,” said Ann Veronica, tear-wet and flushed with a reciprocal passion, but standing up to him with an equality that amazed even herself, “I understand. My last foster father in Alabama before the Becks was a heavy drug abuser. ‘She’s an eviltempered little termagant, yes, but there’s no malice aforethought. Stop it. ‘How did you guess?’ ‘I guessed as soon as you said this was your house.
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