“What do you mean, Annabel? You only knew Mr. Ann Veronica forgot him as soon as she was through the gate, and her face resumed its expression of stern preoccupation. ‘You are mad,’ Gosse uttered, and only just had time to get himself up from the floor. She still could not muster the strength to leave. She studied her form in the full length mirror, assessed 69 her body as one would that of a prize calf, trying to see it through his eyes, through the eyes of desire. I suppose it is the mirrors and decorations. The same pale white buttocks, the same freckles in the same unchanging patterns on her collarbone that all of her mother’s potions had never been able to erase. But did any woman get anything better from a man? Perhaps every woman conceals herself from a man perforce!.
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