She went to her room and changed the loose morning gown in which she had lunched for a dark walking dress. ” Ann Veronica flung away from her hand, and the pepper-pot on the tray upset, sending a puff of pepper into the air and instantly filling them both with an intense desire to sneeze. She saw her discarded nun’s habit still on the floor and scooped it up. Nobody who cared. “Why should one pretend?” she whispered. But she found an unknown lady’s discarded garments, and selected some of those that she tried on, sending Kimble off down the secret passage to load them onto the horse she had borrowed—unbeknownst to its owner—from Father Saint-Simon. They were sounding more and more like Civic every day.
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