She came to me in a dream. Wild. She took it for granted Ann Veronica wore stays—mild stays, perhaps, but stays, and thought no more of the matter. When I carried you up here like a bride, that is the way I wanted us to be, Mary Lucia. ‘Very well, arrest me. “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. You’ll be telling me Gerald did not catch you snooping at the Bicknacres, I suppose. Cocked hats and buckled swords spoke of rank.
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