She felt conscious of her nipples becoming visibly erect under the tight t-shirt and wished that she owned a thicker brassiere. “I just wanted you to see that the time will come when I must leave you, and the time is coming soon. But Ann Veronica had still to get to her chief topic. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. When I learned you were married, I changed my plans. While you talked I was only making our plans. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. ‘It is you who is the fool,’ she threw at him, whipping round again. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell.
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