A String of Pearls
- I’ve always prided myself on running a quiet house. It pleased the master’s father to find his newspaper in the exact same place each morning, his clothes laid out just so, and his breakfast served at the same time each morning. I have endeavoured to keep with these traditions for his son – the current master – but Sir James is cut from a rather different cloth.
- He thinks there is nothing finer than throwing his grandfather’s books into a huge heap on the garden and setting light to them, or pushing the grand piano down the stairs while his drunken friends laugh on. Last week he shot out the last pane of glass from the conservatory.
- Something had to be done. Oh yes, it had to be done.
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