Mr. Perhaps I ate something spoiled for breakfast. To witness this girl sewing on a loose button, flopping the coat about on her knees, tickled his ironic sense of humour; and laughter bubbled into his throat. It was an uproarious affair, for Rollo now knew that he had been grieviously betrayed: they were trying to kill him in a new way. The curtain before one mystery was torn aside, and she saw in reality what lay behind the impulse that had led her into the young man's room. His mind was filled briefly with psychic images of a charnel house that danced like a spider in his head.
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