It was a nice room. Big windows reaching nearly to the ceiling filled the front wall, and opposite was a rough textured, natural stone wall containing a fireplace big enough to stand upright in. The other two walls were lovingly polished wood, with built-in bookcases and storage units for stereo and television, a bar, and a wood bin for the huge logs the fireplace required. The furniture was big and comfortable looking, as though it had had a lot of use, given a lot of pleasing, restful or friendly moments, which indeed it had. Leather and tweed and linen in black and, white and beige. Lamps and bric-a-brac in massive proportions fitting the room itself, in wrought iron and brass and copper, balanced the almost stark simplicity of wood and stone and beam’ed ceiling. It was clearly a man’s room, for comfort and relaxation. The one painting, above the massive fireplace, was of a man, young, sandy-haired, bright-eyed, muscular and ballsout naked, ‘posed in a reclining posture, body stretched out horizontally, upper torso angled so the Leonine-shaped head could rest comfortably on supporting, elbow-bent arm.