Later Gwen’s trouble weighed so heavily on Mrs. Her features were meagre, and ghastly white, and had the fixed and horrible stamp of insanity. 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. ‘Don’t concern yourself,’ Gerald said calmly. “It’s like this,” he said, and dragged a stool beside her and sat down with his elbow four inches from hers and made a sketch. She felt surges of longing escape every corner of her flesh.
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