"Ah, there you are, Miss Meredith let me pour you a sherry…Will medium dry suit you? Good. Did you get me an evening paper in Barford?" "I'm sorry, Mr. Kirkby, but I didn't realise you wanted one." "Oh, never mind," he said testily. "I have one every day. Perhaps you'll be good enough to remember tomorrow." There was an awkward pause. Lindsey took a large sip of sherry to give her Dutch courage. It wasn't a very promising beginning to the evening. She couldn't seem to put a foot right with this man. Much to her relief, Polly came in just then, pushing the dinner trolley, and Lindsey busied herself serving the soup into brightly-coloured pipkins. Simon Kirkby seemed preoccupied and confined his few remarks to the weather and the news. Lindsey glanced about the room. It was gracious with its cool green and cream decor that off-set the walnut table and the fine Adam bookcases along one wall. Someone had obviously furnished it with great care and with no regard for expense—his wife perhaps?
What do You think about Home Is Where The Heart Is?
