She remembered the doctor's warning that the real battle would begin when the patient recovered consciousness. “Beautiful these autumn flowers are,” said Ann Veronica, in a wide, uncomfortable pause. Even though the individual faces of her audience were not to be singled out, she had been conscious from the first moment of her appearance that something was wrong. “Okay, I guess. The galleries adjoining it were crowded with spectators,—so was the roof of a large tavern, then the only house standing at the end of the Edgeware Road,—so were the trees,—the walls of Hyde Park,—a neighbouring barn, a shed,—in short, every available position.
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