The signs of tears had all gone, but some subtle change seemed to have stolen into her face. "I had a terrible dream last night. Manning, Lady Palsworthy’s nephew, a tall young man of seven-and-thirty with a handsome, thoughtful, impassive face, a full black mustache, and a certain heavy luxuriousness of gesture. Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. It was a pity people had to eat food. "General inspection after lunch; drying bins, stores and the young palms south-east. Stanley took mustard savagely. And so I'll tell you what I did —" And she burst into a laugh that froze Jack's blood in his veins.
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