Brendon always comes home with me, and tonight both are away. I’ve been smoking cigarettes in the preparation-room and thinking this out. “Damn! Things are getting plainer. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. . ‘You said?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham, your great-aunt, miss. Be this as it may, though a Catholic, he died a friend to the Protestant succession.
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