“I am lonely. Sheila’s boys hadn’t been much help when they were around the house, anyway, they were more partial to lolling around on couches and running around with their girls. I tore the marriage certificate from his pocket and burnt it. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. When night fell, he crept into the town of Tottenham. There was now a girl in the picture, so it seemed. Her eyes travelled about the room as if in appeal to the very chairs. “I opened my eyes, and she was bending over my bedside.
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