195 < 24 > A CITY IN GREECE, 589 B. Supper was spaghetti and Italian sausage that night. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. ‘Imbecile. “It’s just that he doesn’t seem like your type. Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember.
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