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He had shaved his side-whiskers and come over in flannels, but he was still indisputably the same person who had attended Ann Veronica for the measles and when she swallowed the fish-bone. ‘I suppose he isn’t this Leonardo you spoke of?’ ‘Certainly he is not Leonardo. I have always understood that men avoid like the plague a woman with a sense of humour. But I want to know what you are doing. After these dinners they would have a walk, usually to the Thames Embankment to see the two sweeps of river on either side of Waterloo Bridge; and then they would part at Westminster Bridge, perhaps, and he would go on to Waterloo. “Call me Cathy, John. . The gale had become a hurricane: that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city.

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