For a time Ann Veronica went on her way gauging the quality of sordid streets. “How are those books any different from the witchcraft books?” “I dunno. Then came the javelin-men, walking four abreast, and lastly, a long line of constables, marching in the same order. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. “What do you mean?” she asked. Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. “Thank you—for coming,” he said. He was ready to seed his legacy, and you were a pawn to be moved out of the way.
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