"Good," said Bee, looking pleased with him. "I'll collect Eleanor."
"Did you like being given the old night nursery?" Simon asked, preceding Brat upstairs.
"Very much."
"Same old paper, I suppose you noticed."
"Yes."
"Do you remember the night we had an Ivanhoe-Hereward battle?"
"No; I don't remember that."
"No. Of course you wouldn't."
Again the words hung on the silence, teasing Brat's ear with an echo of their tone.
He followed young Ashby into the room he had shared with his brother, and noticed that there was no suggestion in the room that it had ever been shared by another person. It was, on the contrary, very much Simon's own room; being furnished with his possessions to an extent that made it as much a sitting-room as a bedroom. Shelves of books, rows of silver cups, framed sketches of horses on the walls, easy chairs, and a small desk with a telephone extension on it.