‘He was very kind to me. “Goodnight. ” He paced the room for a minute or two restlessly. Stood on his dignity and shut us up in great style. ‘Your mystery lady, I mean. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. He was a little impressed by Ann Veronica’s metaphor of the string, which, indeed, she owed to Hetty Widgett. ‘Do you need an excuse?’ ‘Oh, you know what doctors are. So he made merry at the dinner table, told comic stories, and was astonished at the readiness with which she grasped the comic side of life. But you must not imagine me wrapped in melancholy.
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