“She’s my wife,” the man muttered. Somebody to depend upon her; somebody to have need of her, if only for a little while. It needs cultivating, I think. She found him reclined, watching television in a small guest room hidden in a back wing of the massive house. She lay and nibbled at a sprig of dwarf rhododendron. "You are alone?" said one of the spinsters—Prudence Jedson. "Hoity-toity! You owe me sixteen thousand dollars. There came to O'Higgins the discouraging knowledge that upon the heels of a wonderful chase—blindman's buff in the dark—would come a stretch of dull inaction.
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