It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. ‘You mean I should give myself a dressingdown? Very well. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. Gerald watched her vanish into the darkness, unusually incensed. She had very few clear memories before a particular day in the library, when they had finished one of her first reading lessons. The picture of Mary Remenham was still on the wall. ‘What in Hades d’ye mean, thanks to me? Want to blame anyone, blame that rapscallion who calls himself your father.
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