He chuckled. She hunted the markets for bread and treats so they could feast during the day. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. Even if you didn’t know it. She read voraciously, and presently, because of her aunt’s censorship, she took to smuggling any books she thought might be prohibited instead of bringing them home openly, and she went to the theatre whenever she could produce an acceptable friend to accompany her. ” “You won’t!” said Ann Veronica; with the clearest note of determination.
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