“You!” said Ann Veronica. And as he gave back the portfolio to Sir Rowland he contrived, unobserved, to slip the precious document into his sleeve, and from thence into his pocket. “My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. She tended the twins while the Clotilde was in Sebastian’s private chambers, a place she gave a wide berth. “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked. Jonathan, however, was well acquainted with the road. The summer arrived, speeding the Plague and with it the famine in the streets.
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