There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. “Now I see what everything means,” said Ann Veronica to herself; and it really felt for some days as though the secret of the universe, that had been wrapped and hidden from her so obstinately, was at last altogether displayed. And then, “They seem changed. She’d prefer that I read classic literature, of course, but she only reads paperback romance novels, so she can’t exactly complain. Knowing Diane’s feelings towards her family, Lucy was inwardly shocked when Diane invited her to stay. ‘Trespasses,’ supplied Gerald.
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