He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. Suddenly the door of the flat opened and closed. The next moment he was by her side. ‘Thanks to him, Hilary and I nearly had our heads blown off. Now that I recall, it probably wasn’t the best source for engineering plans. “Well,” she admitted. Let me have more light, that I may behold him. Let's go up and see how the patient is doing. There was a pause, while the steel grey eyes sliced at her. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them.
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