Sheppard, whose maternal fears drew her in another direction, hurried off to the Mint. ‘Who in the name of heaven is this Leonardo? And why did he kiss you?’ ‘He was an Italian soldier, and he wanted to kiss me,’ Melusine said, goaded. It had ceased raining, but the atmosphere was moist and chill, and the ground deluged by the recent showers. One married as he wished and one against his wishes, and now here was Ann Veronica, his little Vee, discontented with her beautiful, safe, and sheltering home, going about with hatless friends to Socialist meetings and art-class dances, and displaying a disposition to carry her scientific ambitions to unwomanly lengths. The misty caravans of which she had dreamed were become actualities. “What, you don’t think that you can afford it? Lucy, with your musical talent, you’ll get a full ride.
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