Kim rose. “Let me know when to pitch up. I like the room, by the way.” It was an improvement on the crowded back-room of the shop where he’d lived for months but that was about all you could say for it. Kim had stained-glass lamps and original Pre-Raphaelites. Will had whitewashed walls and second-hand furniture. “It’s not much.” “It’s bare and efficient. Just how I think of you,” Kim said, and slipped off down the stairs without a farewell before Will could think of anything to say in reply.
