(Abel is away; he has clearly been watching nubile young ladies opening their exam results on hotel television. Here’s what he emailed me this morning.)

“Your father would like to see you in his study now.”

The butler escorts her, knocking politely on the door.

She enters. The heavy door is closed behind her.

He sits at the far end of the room, behind his desk.

There, in front of him, the crisp unopened envelope containing her results.

Next to the envelope, a cane. And a bottle of champagne.

“I do so hope that we will be able to *celebrate*, my dear.”

He takes the antique silver letter-opener, carefully slices open the envelope. He reads the results, raising an eyebrow, then looks up at her…