The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. ‘You would know more of me?’ ‘I would know everything about you,’ Gerald told her, his tone at once provocative and inviting. When mistress took and died—’ Joan broke off and sighed, moving away to the window. She spied him sitting on his armless black couch, his feet splayed as he stared at his television blankly. I suppose I was a little idiotic—I don’t think we either of us mentioned the future, but it was arranged that I should go the next afternoon and have tea with her. Perhaps she might never come back to that breakfast-room again. "I am coming to the point, Joan. Jack looked towards the door. “But—your people!” she gasped.
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