She decided to leave after Prom. ‘Why does this person say you are mad?’ ‘Because I am risking having my head blown off,’ Gerald answered cheerfully. One or two landladies refused her with an air of conscious virtue that she found hard to explain. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears. God, how old are they now? They must be teenagers. ’ ‘Excellent,’ Gerald had approved.
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