“Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. She made a slow tour of the front of the house without success, and then started back along the rooms behind, dragging open the drapes each time to get just enough light to recognise what was on the walls. “I don’t know how to prove myself to you, John. ’ Mrs Sindlesham abruptly sat up straighter in her chair. It was now whitening, hissing, and seething like an enormous cauldron. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him.
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