They do not come for me, to find me and bring me home. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture. The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park. And, yet, I don't know. ” “Not long ago,” she said, “you left me in anger, partly because of this exchange of identities between Annabel and myself. And besides—We’re going to live, Ann Veronica! Oh, the things we’ll do, the life we’ll lead! There’ll be trouble in it at times—you and I aren’t going to run without friction.
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