‘Here we go again. You do not need my compliments. Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. In her usual style, she interviewed him for his life and was pleased that he liked nothing more than to talk about himself. Her moods were many and always striking. At least I rather hoped I might spend my time chasing smugglers, which would have afforded some excitement. Even the chattering monkeys, parrots, and parrakeets departed the fruit groves for the smelly dark of the jungle. Yet the thing hidden within her called and called. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it. Now, I know you can restore him to his rights, if you choose. He was accompanied by a young man of about seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him the most assiduous attention. ‘I recall my father speaking of you as a Remenham.
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