And this great mellow place, this London, now was hers, to struggle with, to go where she pleased in, to overcome and live in. It was a purse. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. God knows how you did it. ’ ‘What matters it?’ cried Melusine impatiently. The jolly part of it was that for the first time in her life so far as London was concerned, she was not going anywhere in particular; for the first time in her life it seemed to her she was taking London in. ’ ‘On the contrary.
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