“And what is it all about, Veronica?” he asked, with a deliberate note of irony, looking at her a little quizzically over his glasses. But now that this bar is removed, I trust I may, without impropriety, urge it. It had been easy to steal. His mind was busy with a résumé of yesterday's unusual events. She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald. Families had seen their lands seized, their chateaux ransacked or burned, and those unlucky enough to have failed to anticipate disaster, had been murdered or dragged away to gaol. It was on the night of the Great Storm that I found him.
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