They made a stratum into which Ann Veronica was now plunged up to her neck; it had become her stratum. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her. He went on with his song, accompanying it with the most ridiculous grimaces: "When years were gone by, she began to rue Her love for the gentleman, (meaning you!) 'I slighted the journeyman fond,' quoth she, 'But where is my gallant of high degree? Where! where! Oh! where is my gallant of high degree?' Ho! ho! ho!" "What are you doing here!" demanded Thames. His tongue was more ready, his wit more keen than usual. ’ ‘What are you about now, child?’ demanded Martha apprehensively.
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