NO RECONCILIATION Burton travelled down to Garden Green on the following morning by the Tube, which he hated, and walked along the familiar avenue with loathing at his heart.

There was no doubt about Ellen's being at home.

The few feet of back yard were full of white garments of unlovely shape, recently washed and fluttering in the breeze.

The very atmosphere was full of soapsuds.

Ellen herself opened the door to him, her skirts pinned up around her, and a clothes-peg in her mouth.
He greeted her with an effort at pleasantness.