Perhaps she did love research for its own sake, she was certainly gifted enough. Before he could make the thrust, however, he was seized behind by Ireton, who flung himself upon him. Ennison’s signet-ring had cut nearly to the bone. She crushed the letter in her hand. ‘Her own,’ Gerald replied. 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. He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. Silly, isn’t it? Undisciplined.
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