For what she lacked in appearance, Sheila compensated in gossip. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. ” She smiled grimly at the recollection of that lunch—tea and roll at a cheap café. She entered the last room, his bedroom. ‘It is you who is the fool,’ she threw at him, whipping round again. Your mother, for what it’s worth to you—for there’s nothing for you here, by God!—was the woman I chose for Nicholas.
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