FOREWORD Forever Fifteen was born of a dream I had in 2002, a dream that was part nightmare. In the matter of his conscience he was primitive; and for an educated man to become primitive is to become something of a child. ‘But you have told them that I have been disguised, no? That I have broken into Remenham House, and—’ ‘No, no, child, don’t be alarmed,’ said her great-aunt, her tone soothing. “To tell you the truth though, I am quite a stranger in London, and it occurred to me that Mr. ‘What Gerald wants with you has me beat. I can accommodate you below. ‘I may have been only a secretary, but times are changing. “I always get off here and lean over that rail for a bit. Turning now, and running down the terrace. You never can tell. Ruth loved him. White?” she asked, laughing. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers.
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