He lunched in the Legal Club in Chancery Lane, and met Ogilvy. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. ’ He sighed. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. Lucy slept in the same room as Shari, only ten feet away. ” She looked around for the voice around the Orchestra room, fumbling around with her books.
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