He was ruffled, and his ears were red, no doubt from some adjacent controversy. “I’m going to talk of indifferent themes,” said Ramage, a little fussily, “until these interruptions of the service are over. She could not bear the shame of it. ’ ‘But you must. I am bothered. ’ ‘But you don’t look anything like her,’ burst out Mrs Ibstock. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. I care not. Her voice seemed to come from a long way off.
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