What I need is a store of solid information, to reflect upon.

No one could possibly have a worse memory, but by persevering I manage to learn one or two facts a day.' Monica glanced at the books now and then, but had no desire to cultivate Maunder's acquaintance.

Instead of reading, she meditated the problems of her own life.
Edmund Widdowson, of course, wrote to her at the new address.

In her reply she again postponed their meeting.

Whenever she went out in the evening, it was with expectation of seeing him somewhere in the neighbourhood; she felt assured that he had long ago come to look at the house, and more likely than not his eyes had several times been upon her.