His father and his four brothers had perished, leaving him to collect all of their spoils and various kingdoms. And in this fact lay his danger. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. “I am much obliged to you,” he said. Not that he deliberately courted danger; it was rather the searcher, seeking analysis, the why and wherefore of this or that invading emotion. But calmer thoughts quickly succeeded. Perhaps what I need is something to bite in.
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