“I am staying at the Savoy. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day. ‘Don’t lose your temper again. But, by Jove! you are fierce! You are like those Roman women who carry stilettos in their hair. Here was the place behind the shed where she had used to hide from Roddy’s persecutions, and here the border of herbaceous perennials under whose stems was fairyland. Why not? Imagine I’ve had a fit of hysteria—and that I’ve come round.
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