” Sir John looked at her sideways. ‘And just who is Leonardo?’ ‘How in God’s name should I know?’ demanded Roding irascibly. And this time the departure had a tremendous effect of finality. He felt himself collapse heavily onto her naked body, still inside her. “Cheer up, Annabel. ” Drummond, a few years older, dark, clean-shaven, with bright eyes and humorous mouth, laid down his paper and turned towards Sir John. Why, honestly enouch. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully. They sat on a wooden bench that overlooked the less aromatic part of the lake, deeper and not as frequented by geese. It dealt from floor to ceiling and end to end with the Theory of the Forms of Life; the very duster by the blackboard was there to do its share in that work, the very washers in the taps; the room was more simply concentrated in aim even than a church.
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