‘Monsieur Charvill thought perhaps that his daughter would find not a welcome. “He would never have found you out if you had not personated me. This is not honourable. It isn’t as though I haven’t done well. The Pellissiers had been an old family in Hampshire, while his grandfather had driven a van. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. 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. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. ‘From the convent, where else?’ ‘It does not strike me that you can possibly have been in a convent. Perhaps my wife has already prepared you for what I wish to say.
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