"And will swear to it?" "I will. His foot tapped impatiently, and he took up the papers. Nevertheless, relief washed over her, her body rejoicing in the afterglow of twenty years of tension released. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park.
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