The screams of the unfortunate woman had aroused Thames from his slumbers. Bon. You haven’t an idea what the sort of employment you could get there would be like, the sort of people you would be mixed up with. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. Her fingers passed over a cunningly wrought surface of wood, with just the correct amount of protrusion, the precise colours of dyed leather, and cleverly gilded surfaces and neatly painted lettering. “It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning.
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