It wasn’t. Escape was now impossible. ’ It was thus in stony silence that the pair traversed the short distance to Stratton Street, where Roding knocked on the major’s door and entered a pleasant woodpanelled hall, with his prisoner firmly in tow. 238 < 30 > IN BED John drove her home after school nearly every day. It was a habit of his to talk to himself. ‘Stand where you are, or I shoot!’ Like lightning, thoughts zipped through her mind. ‘Oh, dearie me, you make me feel a traitor. Moving room to room it was. He was always anticipating, stepping into the future, torturing himself with non-existent troubles. Clearly dazed, he stared, whispering an oath. “I thought you wanted to have a talk to me,” she said.
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