‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. Five minutes ago, his butler had entered the green saloon, an austere apartment, with dark forest-green wallpaper flocked with a swirling design, and heavy mahogany furniture. At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. Even this man had accepted her for “Alcide” without a moment’s question. And the food! She and Marina had done most of the cooking at home.
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