She so wanted to keep her memory of him fresh, so wanted to memorize his kisses and to conjure his embrace someday when he was mere dust in the ground. Set on unravelling her secrets, Gerald pursues every possible clue—much to the indignation of Mademoiselle. You are taking it for granted that I am ‘Alcide. I’ve got too much work. It occurred to Ann Veronica once that she had known him when he was younger, but day had followed day, and each had largely obliterated the impression of its predecessor. She became more assertive, more defiant. ‘Idiot!’ ‘Enough, now! Softly, you little termagant,’ he ordered, seizing her wrists to hold her off.
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