Gianfrancesco had been talked into the arrangement only because the drivers that had handled the job for generations were sick or dead. “Both!” said Ann Veronica. “Damn!” said Ann Veronica to herself, rousing herself for a conflict. “I don’t see what he has to do with my coming to London?” “He—he worships the ground you tread on. Nothing else matters. ” “You alarm me,” she murmured, smiling. He had to know the truth, Melusine. How the deuce did I ever manage to father such a brainless nincompoop? A nun, for God’s sake! A confounded Catholic nun.
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