“That’s HIM,” said Ann Veronica, in sound, idiomatic English. Then for the first time she was conscious of an unaccountable and terrifying sensation. The mummies were tossed into the collection. A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink. By the time John returned with popcorn and a large Coke, the theater had filled up with high-school kids. “In two days,” she reflected, “Mrs. Gerald frowned. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it. She is called Madame Ibstock, you understand. I fancy that Sir John does not approve of me.
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