And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility. Wood required little pressing. Lucy did her best to avoid talking about it, but the subject was beguiling, as it almost always brought news about him from the grapevine within which Michelle was intravenously entwined. Anna leaned back with half closed eyes. He stamped his last letter as Annabel entered. ‘You see,’ he pursued blandly, ‘I lead a life of the most intolerable boredom.
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