She opened her mouth and inhaled water. “You are coming in, aren’t you, Sydney?” “If I may,” he answered. I go back about once a year. ’ She spoke with difficulty, holding down the rising emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. Before she knew what had happened, Gosse turned suddenly, and vaulted one of the pews into the gap behind. Surely he was imagining this picture. What was it she had expected? Surely her moods were getting a little out of hand. The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes. She drew her naked arms around herself. He would discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing clearness. Luckily, she was bereft of consciousness, and was thus spared the additional misery of witnessing what afterwards befell him. She heard the rats scattering across the stone as dirt fell into the crypt.
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