Rae knew a good deal about Richard Ashton. Sharing his sister Judy’s flat, she had lived for a year with his photograph: a dark, handsome, somewhat commanding young man. She had listened to long extracts from his letters, and built up a picturesque if inaccurate picture of his life in Kenya. She knew he declared himself heart-whole, and had instructed his sister to find him a wife. Judy was enthusiastic. As for Rae, at least this promised to be an unusually interesting encounter.