In London he never allows himself to relax, never taking a moment’s respite to enjoy the songs of wandering artists or to smell the flowers straggling over high brick walls, but he can do that now that he is in a strange city and a stranger himself. He strolls through the beaux quartiers – neighbourhoods that abound in stylish boutiques, smart brasseries and gilded cafés with marble tables on the pavements where customers sit and sip absinthe, wine and lemonade, and laugh as if they have cast all their worries to the winds.
