Ann Veronica was excited and puzzled, with a sense of a strange and disconcerting new light breaking over her relations with Ramage. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. This is a mere boy. I said to myself at once, ‘Either this is a coincidence or the caper sauce. Very good. She saw now that it was not a dissipated face; it was as smooth and unlined as polished marble, which at present it resembled. “You did good!” She closed her eyes and rested in the moment, imagining a normal life where she would go to college, have babies with John, watch her children have children, live, and die as she had always wanted to. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage.
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