She HAD cried, Ann Veronica knew. You were with your mother, the two of you huddled like thieves, laughing at the silly women who tried to shield themselves from rain by cowering under empty baskets and shawls. The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes. He sat in much the same attitude, and she stood just as she had stood when he told her she could not go to the Fadden Dance. Dieu du ciel, but where was Gerald? On the move again, she found herself standing before one of the mirrors, gazing into her own countenance without seeing it.
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