” Helen froze with horror. “Oh, there you are, darling. He doesn’t suffer from nerves. as a chink was found between the leaves, Helen could only read one emotion; passionate interest in what Rupert was saying.
Helen pushed open the door and found herself in a library where the only gaps in the walls not covered with books were filled with vast family portraits. ”“Oh hell,” she said to herself, ‘that’s why he was reading that Rupert Brooke poem. She said, “Janey, I want you to be real honest with me,” which meant shewanted me to lie convincingly. At midnight the telephone rang.
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