The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. From a man, who was standing beneath the shade of one these noble trees, information was obtained that the horsemen had ridden along the Harrow Road. At the opening of the van doors and the emergence into the fresh air Ann Veronica’s doubt and depression gave place to the wildest exhilaration. Hetty, looking out of the window—she always smoked her after-breakfast cigarette at the window for the benefit of the less advanced section of Morningside Park society—and trying not to raise objections, saw Miss Stanley going down toward the shops. She turned up dead after about eight weeks and it broke my heart. “Suppose you call me by my proper name,” she said quietly. ’ ‘A life of ease?’ repeated Melusine. ‘That way.
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