Lucia confined herself to her quarters, wondering when they would flee to the country as so many other houses had done. Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. It was warm, shielding, comforting, and what was more, full of understanding. She had been sitting on the bench for two and a half hours, which was uneventful except for the homeless men who begged for change. She glanced at the soft-ticking clock with the exposed brass pendulum upon the white marble mantel, and made a rapid calculation.
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