In his way he was critical. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. 62 <8> A FIRST DATE WITH JOHN DIEDERMAYER The weekend began for her with that luxury of all luxuries, sleep. “How are you feeling?” She asked with grave concern in her voice. ‘What did you do with the portrait then? Not that I suppose it is much use any longer. Go easy. Almost worthy of your own fertile imagination. “Come to my rooms and have a drink. "I have nothing. \" Lucy fought to resist the compulsion to 45 fold her arms over her chest. “Great!” Cathy squealed. There was a hint of tears in her voice. The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished. Besides, it did not fit her well, which was why the loose wimple had slipped. She struggled against it quite uselessly.
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