It wasn’t so much women as Woman that engaged his mind. I asked you to go. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. Ann Veronica was lying on her bed in a darkling room staring at the ceiling. She spoke with an entirely false note of cheerful offhandedness. She thought of how much she wanted to eat the foods she had once feasted on that now smelled as innocuous as spring flowers. He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. She kept her face downcast.
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