How comfortable it is here, he thought. Much better than sitting in pubs with young girls or even drinking with one's colleagues, the hastily snatched pint of bitter before they caught their trains home to their wives. There was a delicious smell wafting from a pink hyacinth which was growing in a glass on the table at his side. It seemed typical of Ianthe, the slightly school-mistressy touch of growing the bulb in water so that its white Medussa-like roots were visible. One could almost imagine her saying 'Now, girls' and explaining about osmosis or whatever the process was called. What an admirable person she was!"