She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. Nevertheless there came a residuum of expostulations. Do get your hat, and we will go to that corner café. ‘Obsessed, that’s what you are. How did you get into this house?’ He shrugged. She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it. “You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. He rose deliberately to his feet and confronted them.
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