’ Exasperated, Gerald glared at her. She gloried in it: he needed her. The world into which she was so boldly venturing was going to be wonderful, but never so wonderful as the world within these paper covers. “There was a man called Montague Hill,” she said hoarsely, “but he is dead. Did he track her? She was unaware if he did. “But Julian, we don’t even know each other!” She exclaimed. It came into her head with real emotional force that this must be some particularly fantastic sort of dream. ’ ‘Lord, yes,’ agreed Gerald, in mock horror.
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