He steppedover the retriever and put himself at Connie's old davenport beneathwhose sloping surface he'd stowed the brochures from the forthcomingopera seasons in Vienna, Santa Fe, and Sydney. Davies, and shuts our books. That's why she left. Eugenie would be upon him inthirty seconds or less.
And only she could stop that unravelling, if she chose to doso. He picked up a brush and used it to sweep looseleaves and the remains of soil into a bucket, which he took from thefloor. What a thing it was tocome face to face with one's cowardice and indecision, he thought. Somewhere Granddad is bellowing, Dick!Where's my whisky? Dick! And Gran is calling out fearfully fromb
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