“Do you know,” she confessed, “I never thought of that?” He looked at her as though doubting even now whether she could possibly be in earnest. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. It was an overcast day, albeit not foggy, and the electric light shades glowed warmly, and an Italian waiter with insufficient English took Ramage’s orders, and waited with an appearance of affection. Your aunt liked the pheasant. Traps, set with peculiar cunning; she had encountered them everywhere. But your role would have been to go about saying, ‘I beg your pardon’ in a reproving tone to things you understood quite well in your heart and saw no harm in. I might have known it. Then he remembered that she was Anna’s sister. What was his problem, she thought to herself. Let me run you for six months. From suburbs, from country towns—everywhere. There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of her features.
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