At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. As she neared the bottom of the dip in Piccadilly she saw a woman approaching her from the opposite direction—a tall woman who at the first glance seemed altogether beautiful and fine. Only your horror of a grandfather insisted on coming with me, so I had to wait for him to be ready and travel at his pace. I wanted the time with you. . He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. A young man was playing the banjo. ‘Oh, I don’t wish to marry you.
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