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. ‘You talk together of me as if I am not there. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. It was warm, shielding, comforting, and what was more, full of understanding. “I am afraid,” he said to Anna afterwards, “that it was a mistake to order the champagne sec. She was mentally transported for an instant to the old castle in Herculis.
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