The low click-click of the grandfather clock's pendulum was deafening compared to the dead silence that filled the rest of the parlor. Dark wood panels covered the walls, occasionally replaced by shelves filled with books. Green banker lamps sat on two low tables and a crystal decanter, filled with rich brandy, with matching glasses topped a sturdy stand, and the tables and stand are both made from the same dark wood found on the walls. Between one of the tables and the stand was a large globe, displaying the oceans and continents of the world on its tan surface. Four overstuffed, wing backed leather chairs completed the room, situated near the tall, narrow windows.

The heavy drapes were open, letting in the afternoon sun that illuminated the young Winston. The teenager quietly sat in the chair and he tried his hardest to not look out the windows. Outside, his father continously struck two strung up carpets with a heavy rug beater. The resulting dust cloud kept the older man's features obscured, but Winston knew his father was beating the carpets to work out his anger.

It wasn't all that bad compared to Winston's past. He and Wesley had gotten into much worse trouble down on the Boston docks when they were thirteen and the police caught them running a rigged craps game. And it wasn't like Chelsea had nothing to do with it. The way she got out of that corset made Winston think that Chelsea had done it like that far more than the three times they'd been together. But no, as soon as her father walked through the door Winston took the blame and she acted like the innocent princess who didn't understand. If Mr. Larquette had seen what Chelsea was doing last week then thinks might have been different.

Mr. Larquette had a long talk with Winston's father, who told Winston to sit wait inside before going outside to vent his anger on the rugs after Mr. Larquette left. Father had mentioned sending Winston away to Choate or Exeter after the rugby fiasco last fall; after "shaming" Chelsea, Winston's fate was almost certain. Choate was the most likely... it would place Winston near his Uncle and his supervision.

Winston's eyes drifted over to the globe and he tried to think about something else. He caught a glimpse of Europe on the faded surface, each country's name still darkly etched in Indian ink. Memories churned in his head and his eyes lit up with inspiration. According to Mr. Larquette, Winston was a rouge, a horrible influence at the tender age of sixteen, and he had no place in respectable society. But Winston remembered that across the seas there was one last refuge for damned souls and incorrigible malcontents, a life where he could get away from ostracism.

By the time the elder Holmes came back inside Winston had made his choice and left an empty chair...