Part 6 They spent the next Sunday in Richmond Park, and mingled the happy sensation of being together uninterruptedly through the long sunshine of a summer’s day with the ample discussion of their position. She loved for him to regale her with the stories of his past, the days of ancient Greece. “Don’t befool me any more,” he answered, almost roughly. It would have been a crisis anyhow, but it was complicated in Ann Veronica’s mind by the fact that a letter lay on the breakfast-table from Mr. . . The Enschede Bible—the one out of which she read—had been strangely mutilated. It was debauching, this—a devilish art which drew such strange allurements from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity. The following morning found him in the doctor's waiting room, a black cigar turning unlighted in his teeth.
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