At the Diedermayer house, they were videotaped with the latest addition to the family, a Sony camcorder. I don’t quite know why. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. Quarter-staves, bludgeons, brown-bills, lanterns, swords, and sconces were alike shivered; and, to judge from the sullied state of their habiliments, the claret must have been tapped pretty freely. Anna, who was disposed to be sharply critical, could find no fault with it.
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