” “I suppose this makes you an actress?” said Ann Veronica. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so. Can you afford to give this time? There are your own affairs to think of. A black-garbed figure crept forward, noiselessly, towards Gosse’s back. Each time that we meet I try to kill you. It was easy to recognize, the one thing that had stayed the same over the years. To witness this girl sewing on a loose button, flopping the coat about on her knees, tickled his ironic sense of humour; and laughter bubbled into his throat. She too at once developed an anxious interest in the street outside. What had shifted his casual interest was the visible prospect of a party of three who were coming down the packet gangplank. Come back—you must come back.
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