It was horrible. ‘Ah, Madame Joan. The biological laboratory had an atmosphere that was all its own. They had a universe to talk about—two universes. ’ 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. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. That is my real milieu, and one that I am convinced you would not only adorn but delight in.
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