“You can count upon me, Nigel,” she said. Or I should say—’ ‘Eugenia,’ cut in Gerald grimly. The original passage, Martha had told her, had led only from an upstairs room to one downstairs. Yes, I can readily believe it. ’ ‘Then who is this Englishman?’ demanded Gerald on a sceptical note. Hitherto it had been qualified by her conception of all life as a compromise, by her new effort to be unexacting of life. Anything that drew attention to her must be avoided. Was she so fearful still? Roding shrugged and grimaced. She decided to go out into the London afternoon again and get something to eat in an Aerated Bread shop or some such place, and perhaps find a cheap room for herself. Had it not been for the Plague, she might have had her own babies.
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