She trembled slightly as she thought of his boyish grace, and the scallywag grin that occasionally flickered over his face when he described some slightly indelicate situation in which one of his friends had found himself.
Perhaps he was listening to his classical gramophone records. She looked out of the window at the large grey clouds lumbering in from the Atlantic. Tonight he would be listening to Wagner. She loved the way he lounged, completely tranquil, imbibing the form and measure of the Great Master.
Meanwhile, Robin, half a mile away, lay on his bed abusing himself with rather more concentration than he habitually applied to his personal affairs.
