Part 3 Ann Veronica’s father was a solicitor with a good deal of company business: a lean, trustworthy, worried-looking, neuralgic, clean-shaven man of fifty-three, with a hard mouth, a sharp nose, iron-gray hair, gray eyes, gold-framed glasses, and a small, circular baldness at the crown of his head. “I want to ask you a question,” she said abruptly. “In all fairness,” she thought to herself as she coaxed his mouth toward her left nipple. Lucia, you will come to love me and all the blessings of the Lord that marriage brings.
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