I had no idea. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end. The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him. “I—I am sorry—I didn’t explain. ‘Monsieur Charvill thought perhaps that his daughter would find not a welcome. She found him reclined, watching television in a small guest room hidden in a back wing of the massive house. Spurlock stepped into the room. ” She stopped abruptly, and turned about toward the front door. “I love this warm end of summer more than words can tell,” he said. Usually it was fish sticks and reheated noodles.
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