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. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. Who? Could it be Gerald? Quickly, she looked back at Gosse’s face, and found him frowning. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means. ’ ‘Who, Joan, who? Of whom do you speak?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. She would be enduing this chap with attributes he did not possess, clothing him in fictional ruffles. 1. Leave me my blanket! I'm very cold at night.
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