At this time of day the priest would be at his apartments in Brewer Street, a short walk away from Golden Square which the building overlooked. He continued to do this for the rest of the evening intermittently, in and out, among other topics. Your mother, for what it’s worth to you—for there’s nothing for you here, by God!—was the woman I chose for Nicholas. He leaned forward to better drink her in. You don’t know what you ask nor what you say. Annabel, I was lying. “Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself. But here was new music, tender and kindly and whimsical, that first roved to and fro in the mind and then cuddled up in the heart. Here one might live the life of golden days.
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