Then Ann Veronica passed on toward the tea in the garden, which was dotted with the elite of Morningside Park society, and there she was pounced upon by Lady Palsworthy and given tea and led about. No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. The vestry was perhaps the only room in the place, except her allotted curtained off portion of the dormitory chamber that served for her cell—and she could not scandalise the nuns by having a man in there, be he never so much a servant—where Melusine could be sure of privacy. She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt. Even the horns were easing into the concept and the woodwinds in the second movement were particularly well-orchestrated. .
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