The morning of Monday the 16th of November 1724 at length dawned. You can live just about how you like. "Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. “Ye Gods!” she said at last. "Out of a family album, you said," Angelina reminded her sister. A note of belligerency had crept into his tone. “I don’t care,” said Ann Veronica to the darkness; “I’ll fight it. What the devil is her name, now we know she isn’t you?’ ‘Yolande,’ supplied Melusine.
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