There was a pause, and then the front door slammed. The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. Good night. Give me the books. ‘Go and fetch her home,’ he said; ‘it isn’t what we thought! It’s just a practical joke of hers. It’s just to feel—one owns one’s self. She married my Dad in a small ceremony down at City Hall. We shall never have an heir, you and I! My family is crumbling; all of my brothers are dead. "Not a single whooper-upter! Nothing but torment and remorse … and Ruth! Children, put your arms around me. I naturally want to do it up in proper style.
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