CHAPTER TWELVEIt was a couple of days later that Antony Latter rang Julia up at her flat.
‘Can I come round and see you?’
‘If you don’t mind an awful mess. I’ve brought a lot of my things up from Latter End—books chiefly—and I’m unpacking them. They’re all over the floor.’
When he walked in twenty minutes later he discovered this to be an understatement. They were not only all over the floor, but stacked on every chair and piled in sliding strata upon the table and the couch which was Julia’s bed. Julia herself in the red smock, which appeared to have been washed since he saw it last but which was rapidly acquiring a good deal of dust, looked up at him with a frown.
‘It’s grim—isn’t it? I don’t know what happens to books when you get them out—there always seem to be about ten times as
