'How unsporting of your Oz' she harumphed at her brother, her tone full of mock annoyance, 'There was me thinking you were rather a patron of the arts. Or at least a better judge of the male character than I.' Grudgingly - and she did so grudge to acknowledge either the wit or the sense of the eldest Dempsey - and certainly not his undeniable place as the eventual successor to their artistic -and indulgent patriarch. And the seismic change that that would make in the life of the various Dempsey children - she was not quite yet a spinster, but it was a fate fast approaching and she could not help the vague panicked clench of her stomach when she thought of it.

When pressed she could hardly think of the sort of man she might be able to tolerate for the length of a marraige, 'You are lucky, brother, perhaps I will follow in your footsteps and marry someone who can just about tolerate me.' she moaned, 'I sometimes think that any gentleman who might be inclined to take me couldn't possibly be sensible enough for me to care for.'

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