On the left lay the heights of Hampstead, studded with villas, while farther off a hazy cloud marked the position of the metropolis. The sky was dripping a wet, slow rain that had forced the city’s inhabitants into taxicabs and dingy cafeterias, the day wholly ruined for all except the insane schizophrenics and her. Lord Charvill’s sense of justice would not, however, allow him to repudiate his granddaughter, if indeed this female proved to be the infant lost to the family so many years ago. ‘And how is it that you have acquired this garb of a religieuse?’ he asked as she fitted the veil over her head.
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