She stopped eating. She had lost her sense of direction, and was among unfamiliar streets. The emerald wings, slashed with scarlet and yellow, wheeling and swooping about her head, there among the wild plantain. If all wives were of my mind and my spirit, husbands would soon be taught their own insignificance. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre. It had showed up at an auction at Sotheby’s after someone had sold it.
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