’ ‘Don’t you dare. One night, she drew close to him in bed, trying to warm herself by embracing his back. Operations then commenced. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. ’ Gerald drew his breath in sharply as Lord Charvill took a step towards his granddaughter, thrusting out his head. A quick flush stained her cheeks. There were moments when Ann Veronica rather more than suspected the chief speakers to be, as school-boys say, showing off at her. ’ Her face fell. Clientèle was of the most transitory character. She chastised herself for thinking of her husband and lord as being weak. “Not for these things, O Ann Veronica, have you revolted,” it said; “and this is not your appropriate purpose. How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs—which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible—the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty. “They never seem so at first!” he said. "We mustn't disturb the patient.
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