3. “I—I didn’t love the man I was engaged to,” she said. “Poor old Alice!” Her brother Roddy came to her and demanded tea, and asked her to state a case. I do not want to get only a second-hand flavour of life. He was an imaginative young man. Whatever he wrote he was: he became this or that character, he suffered or prospered equally. There was a huge desk of heavily carved ebony at one end, and at the centre, a couple of straight-backed chairs stood before a great fireplace at the outer wall, flanked by two bookshelves with casement windows above. C below. Five hours later she tiptoed down the hall and paused at the threshold of what they now called his study. Meysey Hill—never your wife.
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