Or I should say—’ ‘Eugenia,’ cut in Gerald grimly. . He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. “Thanks, Mister McCloskey. ” He did not move. I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself.
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