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Lucy spoke once they had turned the corner. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square. . Wood laughed louder than ever. From the opposite corner under the trees a man with his hat slouched over his eyes stood and glowered at them. “Why did you do it?” her aunt urged. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay.
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