She HAD cried, Ann Veronica knew. Wood bore up with great fortitude against the shock, attended the inquest, delivered his evidence with composure, and gave directions afterwards for the funeral, which took place on the day but one following—Sunday. Cathy sighed. He noted that she was fully dressed, that her hair was carefully done, that there was a knotted ribbon around her throat. Anyway, I only smoke occasionally. “You are a thousand times more beautiful,” he said, “than anything else could be. The barometer says nothing, neither the sky nor the water; the skipper has the "feel" that out yonder there's a big blow moving. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. Part of his head was swathed in linen bandages. He had had five children at irregular intervals, of whom Ann Veronica was the youngest, so that as a parent he came to her perhaps a little practised and jaded and inattentive; and he called her his “little Vee,” and patted her unexpectedly and disconcertingly, and treated her promiscuously as of any age between eleven and eight-and-twenty.
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