Renniker is a wonderful man.
I have rented a couple of furnished rooms in one of the villas.

It has a decayed bit of front garden in which a gnarled, stunted stick is planted, and it is called The Laburnums.

My landlord, the owner of the villas, is a builder.

What profits he can get from building in Murglebed, Heaven alone knows; but, as he mounts a bicycle in the morning and disappears for the rest of the day, I presume he careers over the waste, building as he goes.

In the evenings he gets drunk at the Red Cow; so I know little of him, save that he is a red-faced man, with a Moustache like a tooth-brush and two great hands like hams.
His wife is taciturn almost to dumbness.