The one through which she had come and Gosse had entered behind her. He heard Rollo's stump beat a gentle tattoo on the floor. She did not wait, but grabbed up the lantern and slid into the passage, calling to them to hurry. "God in Heaven!" he cried, "the floor is covered with blood. It was a bizarre sight, a miniature manor, replicated fully, walled in gray limestone. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture. "I'm tired of the life I'm leading. One of your aunts died, I believe, and the other removed to London. The size and grandeur of the edifice, indeed, drew down the ridicule of several of the wits of the age: by one of whom—the facetious Tom Brown—it was said, "Bedlam is a pleasant place, and abounds with amusements; —the first of which is the building, so stately a fabric for persons wholly insensible of the beauty and use of it: the outside being a perfect mockery of the inside, and admitting of two amusing queries,—Whether the persons that ordered the building of it, or those that inhabit it, were the maddest? and, whether the name and thing be not as disagreeable as harp and harrow.
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