Tony Grist (poliphilo) wrote,
Tony Grist

In Bloomsbury

Oh, those plane trees in the gardens of Bloomsbury!

I followed her at a distance. She was all in green and she had on the sweetest little hat with a tiny bird of paradise pinned to it. The statues were cool in the gloaming of the gardens, but it was all yellow dusty on the streets. She carried something in her left hand. It might have been a reticule or it might have been a small book- a prayerbook, perhaps?

She turned in at the gates of the British Museum. I held back a few seconds too long; by the time I followed her into the building, she was out of sight. I spent the morning tramping the galleries- the Egyptian galleries, the Assyrian galleries, the great room that holds the Elgin marbles- but she had eluded me.
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