’ He regarded her thoughtfully. He installed Anna in a comfortable easy chair, and placed his own between her and the door. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. On the day he carried the manuscript to Copeley's he brought back a packet of letters, magazines, and newspapers. ‘I allow anyone in. ’ Alderley laughed. If so I shall have to leave. She had arranged for a supper of tea, a boiled egg, and some tinned peaches. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. 26 His duties were to make certain that she was eating right and not exposing herself to foul odors and cold drafts.
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