‘Come, cry a truce. ” The wedding-breakfast was for Ann Veronica a spectacle of the unreal consuming the real; she liked that part very well, until she was carelessly served against her expressed wishes with mayonnaise. Wood started to his feet. The storm burst upon them in its fury. She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain. Set yourself to find it out, if you will—but if you do, never dare to call yourself my friend again. He might not condone it, but the feelings that had prompted it augured well for Melusine’s safety.
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