Oh, she didn't shout. That surprised him, considering the fact that she seemed to be boiling with rage just below the surface. It was inconvenient though, because now he would actually need to talk about his work and answer uncomfortable questions. "Would you like to come in, Miss Carrington, so we can talk at ease?" he said, partly to win time, and partly because he was quite intrigued by this young lady and her approach.

He stepped out of the way, and gestured into his small flat. The door opened right into the living room, which was dark, with heavy curtains blocking out much of the daylight. The walls wore old green wallpaper with a flowery pattern. The floor was had brown carpet. There were several armchairs around a saloon table and there was a small fire burning in the fireplace. On the table stood his glass of whiskey, right beside the half-full bottle.