Don’t you think? Tum, tay, tum, tay. ” He stuttered. Wood, contemptuously. “Where have you been? All these hours I have been calling for you. At this time of day the priest would be at his apartments in Brewer Street, a short walk away from Golden Square which the building overlooked. ‘From the convent, where else?’ ‘It does not strike me that you can possibly have been in a convent. Gregory B. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. Wood, who were, furthermore, engaged in a little conjugal tête-à-tête of their own.
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