‘My dear boy, your loyalty is misplaced. Everything was going to hell. ’ Grudgingly, the sergeant shifted aside and allowed her access to the stairs, grumbling to her retreating back, ‘If I’d me way, missie, I’d send you back to France where you ought never to have come away from, if you arst me. And this great mellow place, this London, now was hers, to struggle with, to go where she pleased in, to overcome and live in. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. He took her fingers and lifted his eyes to hers.
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