A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. “Is Larry already in bed?” Cathy nodded yes. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. "Why not?" "I'll tell you," cried a deep voice from the back of the bed. Hilary could not have suggested such a thing. . She was glad when he went on: “I want to be your city of refuge from every sort of bother. He said the place had gone to wrack.
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