Once into the drawing-room, one saw why. <...> Outstanding examples of everything auro-visual on the market this year, 1959, where ranged round the surprised walls: large-screen television set, sonorous-looking radio, radio-gramophone in a teak coffin, other gramophone with attendant stereo cabinets, sixteen-millimetre projector with screen ready, a recording instrument of B.B.C. proportions, not to be written off as a tape-recorder. Other importations: a superb typewriter shared a metal-legged table with a cash register worthy to be its mate; and an intercom, whose purposes seemed uncertain, had been installed. What looked like miles of flex matted the parquet. Electronics had driven the old guard, the Circe armchairs, into a huddle in the middle of the floor: some were covered in dust-sheets and some not.<...>
'Well, I must say, Eva!'
'Yes,' said Eva contentedly.
'You understand all these?'
'I am learning to. — Will you have tea, Iseult?'
'I don't think so, thank you. A drink later?'
'My computer will be going into the dining-room.'
'Oh, really, Eva, how can you need a computer!'
'It thinks,' said the girl, looking aggrieved. 'That is what you used to tell me to do.'