The Iron Bar. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. She began to look for beauty and discover it in unexpected aspects and places. But she made a pretence of struggling a little, for it would be out of character for her not to do so and she did not want to arouse his suspicions. ‘Don’t be silly. Manning regarded her thoughtfully for a moment and stroked his mustache. ‘Softly, you say?’ she uttered, raging. Darting quickly to the chest that contained the priest’s vestments, she leapt onto it and reached her arm down to scrabble behind it on the floor.
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