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EARLY in the afternoon -- at forty minutes past twelve, to be exact -- of a sunny day in late spring, a tall, hatchet-faced man, accompanied by a small, sprightly lady, strolled at a leisurely pace through Pump Court and presently emerged into the cloisters, where he and his companion halted and looked about them.
"What a lovely old place it is! " the latter exclaimed, letting her eyes travel appreciatively from the porch of the Temple Church to the facade of Lamb Buildings. "Wouldn't you like to live here, Jack?"