After you have passed through the lounge room--the conventional outpost of the club, with desks and tables and chairs and prints and so on--you find yourself in a corridor with long seats, and windows opening on to Nora Van Leuwen's big, bare, picturesque Dutch Oven downstairs.

On the other side of the corridor is the dance room--also the latest exhibition.

Some of the pictures are very queer indeed.

The last lot I saw were compositions in deadly tones of magenta and purple.

The artist was a tall young man, the son of a famous illustrator.