It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. ’ Gerald frowned in an effort of memory, and then laughed as he recalled one of the lies she had invented for his benefit. But the restraint exercised by her instinctive delicacy was very great; over and above coarse or sexual matters it covered religion and politics and any mention of money matters or crime, and Ann Veronica found herself wondering whether these exclusions represented, after all, anything more than suppressions.
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