They sat on a wooden bench that overlooked the less aromatic part of the lake, deeper and not as frequented by geese. They stank, and she hated how they blocked the sunlight. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. Stanley, having pretended to linger to smoke, fled suddenly up-stairs to petrography, and when Veronica tapped he answered through the locked door, “Go away, Vee! I’m busy,” and made a lapidary’s wheel buzz loudly. Gianfrancesco took her that night gently, for which she was glad. They got on wonderfully well together.
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