Childermass pondered this description for a moment or two. As she went about thehouse, looking for Flora, she kept repeating to herself, Snow, not rain. Foolish, is it not? said Mrs Lennox to Mr Scgundus. Jonathan Strange, the magician.
Itwas like an allegory ol loss, death and misery. Chief among these delusions was thebelief that London had been drowned in a great flood. He found himself, not in the kitchen as he hadexpected, but in a room he had never seen before. Upon thewhole I am glad that you and I have met, Dr Greysteel.
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