"You knew Jerrold, then, when he was little, too?"
"Yes. He was eight when I was five."
"Do you remember what he was like?"
"Yes."
Maisie waited to see whether Anne were going on or not, but as Anne stopped dead she went on herself.
"I wish I'd known Jerry all the time like that. I wish I remembered running about and playing with him…. You were Jerrold's friend, weren't you?"
"And Elliot's and Colin's."
The lying had begun. Falsehood by implication. And to this creature of palpable truth.
"Somehow, I've always thought of you as Jerrold's most. That's what makes me feel as if you were mine, as if I'd known you quite a long time. You see, he's told me things about you."
"Has he?"