‘Suppose you don’t know what sort of proof she was after?’ he asked. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. He would stare at her intensely when he was certain his parents were not looking in his direction. Melusine ran up the stairway after him, her point flailing to frighten him into allowing her access to the chapel. He filled the rôle of comrade which Spurlock dared not enact, at least not utterly as he would have liked.
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