“Almost sacred,” said Pomeroy. “Five minutes from everywhere.”
“I meant the views,” flashed Belinda. “You can see for miles.”
“Quite that,” said Pomeroy. “And what about six bathrooms, Forsyth? Six. All tiled.”
“It’s the last word in luxury,” agreed Belinda. “And there’s practically nothing to be done. When that stuff on the edge of the terrace has been taken away——”
“What stuff?” said Pomeroy suspiciously. “D’you mean the balustrade?”
“Well, it isn’t really a balustrade.” She addressed herself to the lawyer. “It’s a hideous sort of parapet, Mr. Forsyth. It doesn’t go with anything and it just ruins the whole ensemble.”
“My dear Belinda,” said Pomeroy, “you can’t take that away. It mayn’t be a work of art, but it’s pretty useful. You must have a rail or something.”
“Why?”
“There’s a twelve-foot drop,” said Pomeroy. “That’s why. You can’t have a depth like that unflagged. Supposing one of your guests came in a bit lively—by starlight.”
“I don’t entertain drunkards.”