You called yourself a murderess. ’ ‘It’s no use you being superior,’ said Roding severely. ‘What is it?’ ‘Er—shouldn’t I tell—I mean, the young lady, sir—’ ‘You can leave the young lady to me. So he obeyed Everett and married Mary, and kept the woman as his mistress. We’ll run away together, we’ll elope. What ho! lights! lights!" And, shouting as he went, he flung himself down stairs. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. Better come another morning.
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