She could not risk going in the door, lest she run into Larry or Cathy drinking a nocturnal glass of milk or Mike raiding the refrigerator for snacks. She heard their feet and muffled voices. If you know her for the vicious, scheming wretch that she is, why in God’s name—?’ ‘She’s not a vicious, scheming wretch,’ Gerald said calmly. She had never been to the opera before except as one of a congested mass of people in the cheaper seats, and with backs and heads and women’s hats for the frame of the spectacle; there was by contrast a fine large sense of space and ease in her present position. Later that night, after she had cleaned herself and changed her clothes, he returned. I have broken from prison, and am come to save you. Why, honestly enouch. He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. “It’s Ennison, isn’t it?” he exclaimed.
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