Their colloquy was ended abruptly by the apparition of Miss Klegg at the further door. “You can date whomever you wish. Is there anything you'd like?" "Books. They knew they were all Bogey in disguise. The inner apartment was rather gracefully furnished with a thick, fine Turkish carpet, a good brass fender, a fine old bureau, and on the walls were engravings of two young girls’ heads by Greuze, and of some modern picture of boys bathing in a sunlit pool. Hidden menace; a prescience of something dreadful about to happen. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. The van started with a jerk and rumbled on its way.
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