‘Could she have been a spy, after all?’ ‘Oh, she’s not a spy,’ Gerald answered, almost absently. “Who tied this scarf here?” he asked, looking up. He began munching his water-chestnuts—a small brown radish-shaped vegetable, with the flavour of coconut—that grow along the river brims. Not wisely but too well. The characters of the youthful occupants of the room might be detected in every article it contained. He had barely settled at his desk in his library, when he was disturbed by two morning callers. ‘C’est ridicule.
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