I stubbornly insisted that we wait, and you woke up. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. John sat pensively in the back of his best friend's mother's minivan, piloted by his best friend Mark. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. She forced herself not to think of John. “He’d better treat you right this time or I’ll pulverize him, you hear?” Lucy gave in to the hug. She ran her gaze over him, and allowed her eyelashes to flutter down. ’ ‘Will you have done, Gerald?’ demanded Hilary, exasperated.
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