Perhaps that was why Sheila began to observe Lucy, because both of them were poignantly aware of Lucy’s otherness. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. ’ ‘And you believe her?’ asked Lucilla, raising her brows. “You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. ” Capes watched the limpid water dripping from his oar. “It is a secret mission,” she declared. It was past seven when she got back to her hotel. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall.
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