‘Don’t be silly. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. “Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. You’re splendid stuff, you know, but you’ve got nothing ready to sell. ’ ‘And she’d be right,’ Martha said severely. Too much blood has been shed already. She bent down. ’ ‘She told you!’ ‘And,’ pursued Gerald, ignoring his friend’s scornful interjection, ‘that it was not always convenient to be dressed as a young girl.
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