Whitticombe's disgusted snort was echoed by the General. "Atmospheric, indeed! It's damp and cold and unhealthful-and if you plan to drag us out to be your audience, perched on cold stone, then you can think again. My old bones won't stand for it."

"But it is a very beautiful place," Gerrard put in. "Some of the vistas are excellent, either framed by the ruins or with the ruins as a focal point."

Vane saw the glow in Gerrard's eyes, heard the youthful fervor in his voice.

Gerrard glanced his way, then colored. "I sketch, you see."

Vane's brows rose. He was about to express interest, polite but unfeigned, when Whitticombe snorted again.

"Sketches? Mere childish likenesses-you make too much of yourself, m'boy." Whitticombe's eyes were hard; headmaster-like, he frowned at Gerrard. "You should be out and about, exercising that weak chest of yours, rather than sitting in the damp ruins for hours on end. Yes, and you should be studying, too, not frittering away your time."

The glow vanished from Gerrard's face; beneath the youthful softness, the planes of his face set hard. "I am studying, but I've already been accepted into Trinity for the autumn term next year. Patience and Minnie want me to go to London, so I will-and I don't need to study for that."

"No indeed," Vane smoothly cut in. "This port is excellent." He helped himself to another glass, then passed the decanter to Edmond. "I suspect we should offer due thanks for the late Sir Humphrey's well-qualified palate." He settled his shoulders more comfortably; over the rim of his glass, he met Henry's eye. "But tell me, how has the gamekeeper managed with Sir Humphrey's coverts?"

Henry accepted the decanter. "The wood over Walgrave way is worth a visit."

The General grunted. "Always plenty of rabbits about by the river. Took a piece out yesterday-bagged three."