For hats that fail and hats that flare; Toppers their universal wear; A man scores always, everywhere. You were with your mother, the two of you huddled like thieves, laughing at the silly women who tried to shield themselves from rain by cowering under empty baskets and shawls. For a moment her heart seemed to stop beating. Her hair was held back in a filigreed barrette. ’ Jack blinked at her. “Violence won’t do it,” said Ann Veronica. “You can date whomever you wish. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street.
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