"I never told anybody," she went on. ” She whispered. Alarmed by the noise of the scuffle, Quilt and Sharples rushed to the assistance of their comrade. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. Wood hadn't struck me. ” She wanted to feast upon him badly, his passion, his youthfulness. The man muttered something inaudible, and gathered up the reins. Ann Veronica considered her answer. It was a society column about the richest men in the world and their lavish parties. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate.
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