Before the Monroes I was placed with a single woman, Leslie Cavendish. As matters now stand, I'm only a thief, not a blackguard. My garden-close would be a better thing than that. Practically it was most of the chief interests in life that she proposed to settle in this pedestrian meditation. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. Something draws everybody. The flowers and turf, a wild strawberry, a rare butterfly, and suchlike little intimate things had become more interesting than mountains. She ran through the backyards of Pinecrest subdivision, piano wire and a slim jim tucked into her pantyhose.
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