Brendon dismissed the subject with a wave of the hand. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. They moved fast. Paul’s, were rich and wonderful with the soft sunshine of London, the softest, the finest grained, the most penetrating and least emphatic sunshine in the world. They weren’t very chummy with one another but Sheila 113 didn’t expect much from a foster daughter as long as she worked hard, very hard, to earn her keep. Two children, who had been caught in the jam-closet: ingratiating smiles, back of which lay doubt and fear. ’ ‘I’ve a good mind to leave the pair of you to it and take myself off,’ threatened his junior, marching across the room and snatching up a decanter.
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