“From what I’ve heard,” replied George, who had no great sympathy for the last Mrs. Boyce, “she’s perfectly happy with her Australian boy-friend.”
This was such common knowledge that Jean could hardly contradict it, so she changed the subject.
“She’s awfully pretty, isn’t she?”
George was sufficiently alert to avoid the trap.
“Oh, I suppose so,” he replied indifferently. “That is, of course, if one likes brunettes.”
“Which you don’t, I take it,” said Jean sweetly.
“Don’t be jealous, dear,” chuckled George, stroking her platinum hair. “Let’s go and look at the library. What floor do you think that will be on?”
“It must be up here; there’s no more room down below. Besides, that fits in with the general design. All the living, eating, sleeping and so on’s relegated to the ground floor. This is the fun and games department — though I still think it’s a crazy idea having a swimming-pool upstairs.”
“I guess there’s some reason for it,” said George, opening a door experimentally. “Rupert must have had skilled advice when he built this place. I’m sure he couldn’t have done it himself.”
“You’re probably right. If he had, there’d have been rooms without doors, and stairways leading nowhere. In fact, I’d be afraid to step inside a house that Rupert had designed all by himself.”