The gardens were tidy and geometric, each avenue with a different purpose: flowers for cutting, herbs, brightly colored vegetables. E. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. “Will you come this way,” she said, “into the drawing-room? There is no one there just now. She went on from street to street, and all the glory of London had departed. “I do not know. On the left lay the heights of Hampstead, studded with villas, while farther off a hazy cloud marked the position of the metropolis. You know that. The house had in fact been converted into a convent, but the fact could not be advertised, not even in the Catholic enclave that existed in this part of town.
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