The smell of tobacco usually reminded Mirabelle of being a child - coming downstairs in the morning when the dinner party her parents had hosted the night before was cleared away, but the scent of cigars still lingered. – Operation Goodwood

Mrs Beaumont shrugged. ‘Dougie travelled light in life,’ she said. ‘He knew it was people who were important.’ – Operation Goodwood

So what if she wasn’t a pushover? So what if she had some mettle and didn’t wear her heart on her sleeve? She had done everything she had done for the best. For king and country.

When she first moved to Brighton, the flat on the Lawns had felt luxurious and it had seemed as if she was settling down, sleeping in the same bed every night, the darkness uninterrupted by any hint of emergency. It had felt as if all her difficulties were over. -Operation Goodwood

The old London was fading from her memory. She no longer expected to see the shops that had been bombed when she passed familiar streets. In many places the sites were being redeveloped. That’s what seemed real now– the new buildings and the flats above them. As she hit her stride, Mirabelle smiled. It felt good to be in the big city again and on her way. -Operation Goodwood

I like you in green,’ he said. ‘You look as if you’re a very beautiful imp.’