“Much as I hate rows, I’ve either got to make a stand or give in altogether. A sinister thought edged in. Suddenly the door of the flat opened and closed. His tone changed, becoming a little more moderate. Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend. His bravado waxed and he asked her to what would be her first date in nearly twenty years. It shall be your wedding ring. ‘I take it that you like this great-niece of mine?’ ‘One cannot help but do so. “There was a man called Montague Hill,” she said hoarsely, “but he is dead. Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world.
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