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. It’s an emerald. She hoped to turn him off with the mention of Study Halls and detentions, as there were no such animals in 204 Martin’s world of high pressure academics. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. He rose at once to his feet and turned a white face upon her.
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