She found him reclined, watching television in a small guest room hidden in a back wing of the massive house. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. The inner apartment was rather gracefully furnished with a thick, fine Turkish carpet, a good brass fender, a fine old bureau, and on the walls were engravings of two young girls’ heads by Greuze, and of some modern picture of boys bathing in a sunlit pool. ‘Champion?’ ‘The lad you saw following her. ’ ‘That’s just it,’ said Joan Ibstock shamefacedly. You are wholly in my power.
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