“All right so far,” she said to herself. Lucy had snuck in the back door by the kitchen and Sheila was ready for her, standing between the stove 124 and the refrigerator. Later. The house had in fact been converted into a convent, but the fact could not be advertised, not even in the Catholic enclave that existed in this part of town. We dressed it in a little music. A stiff, formally-cut coat of cinnamon-coloured cloth, with rows of plate buttons, each of the size of a crown piece, on the sleeves, pockets, and skirts, reached the middle of his legs; and his costume was completed by the silver-hilted sword at his side, and the laced hat under his left arm. Don’t touch the handle, Annabel! Curse the thing, you’ve jammed it now.
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