The Disguise 261 VI. Part 7 As they came back from that day’s climb—it was up the Mittaghorn—they had to cross a shining space of wet, steep rocks between two grass slopes that needed a little care. I shall barely be in time for the theatre. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. It was years before your time. She’d prefer that I read classic literature, of course, but she only reads paperback romance novels, so she can’t exactly complain. She HAD cried, Ann Veronica knew. ” She felt, with a sudden horror, that she might weep.
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