CHAPTER THREE The talk turned to Elizabeth herself, and how she got on with Seth, and the affairs of their farm – or, rather, Seth's farm, for, as a...woman, Elizabeth could own no property of her own, not even her clothing nor the collar her husband had put around her neck on their wedding day. The news of Ruth's recovery was already known, and Elizabeth was congratulated on it, and on Seth's plans to train her as a sheep-dog if it were possible. There was precedent for this, as all knew, for. Oleander entered, his face a study of the congenial host. ‘So glad you could join me for tea, my dear,’ he said, waving a hand at a chair. ‘Do have a seat.’ ‘I wasn’t given much choice, was I?’ she replied, sitting on the edge of the indicated chair. He clucked his tongue, looking her over thoroughly. ‘You’re not looking well,’ he said as he walked to his desk to push a button. ‘It saddens me to have to put you through the rigors of my little prison downstairs, but you left me no alternative.. He led me through some curtains and showed me a bare wall. Taking a deep breath, he pressed on one side of the wall and it moved, rotating about its center until there was a small passageway. He led me through the opening and pointed to the back of the small room where there was a shelf with several books. I was surprised at how few books he had, disappointed in how few had been saved. My friend Yan Shin had said this collection of old books was the largest in the city, perhaps the largest in. He had a bed, two sofas, two guitars, and a small amplifier.He took me through a number of exercises, playing scales, asking me tosing the note. We stuck at it for half an hour or so; he said I hadalready improved a lot. Then there was one exercise I got slightlystuck on; I asked him to show me.He started to blush, looking embarrassed, but nodded.He was fantastic.I told him that, but he said no. He didn't like people watching himsing, he got embarrassed. "I'm a guitarist, not a singer," he.