This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. A sense of loss was amongst us. “You permitted me then to call you my friend. ’ She moved to Melusine’s side as she spoke. ” “It is very nice of you to think of it,” Anna said briskly. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. "Well, it's a good story. I was in hopes you'd be content with my hat and wig.
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