She meditated long and carefully upon her letter to her father before she wrote it, and gravely and deliberately again before she despatched it. It came to Ann Veronica that life was wonderful beyond measure. “Who do you think cares for your children as you dally with my husband, Clotilde?” Lucy asked. Capes. Something forbade him to draw her toward him and seal the compact with a kiss. ‘My dear boy, your loyalty is misplaced. ‘Mademoiselle,’ he had greeted her, entering the little private parlour where, Martha being at prayer in their room, she sat alone, reading over and over the letter Mother Abbess had given her and revolving plans in her head.
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