‘What else was there to do? He paid off the servants and left old Pottiswick in charge, saying that the place would have to remain empty until the heir was found. He drifted in and out of consciousness. Worse than any man. ’ She shrugged. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. “Does he ever ask about me?” She asked, feeling like a cuckolded old maid. “Is Coke okay?” He asked as he pulled into the gas station. The small Diedermayer clan was a captive audience. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. “I will do whatever you want,” said Ann Veronica. “A thick-set, coarse-looking young man, Anna!” she exclaimed in a hoarse excited whisper. I bored him.
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