‘Went to the dogs, did Jarvis, after Mary died. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. He grunted a little with effort, and she realised the gilt frame must be heavy. But she no longer obsessed over heresy, no longer did she feel cursed by God. It was wrenched away from Melusine’s clutching hands. She said that she couldn’t stand Mike. Her knees almost sank beneath her as she raised the latch of the front door and looked out. ’ Then Hilary became serious again. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used.
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