‘Why do you think I told you about the portrait? I’d not seen it, of course, but I’d seen Miss Mary just before she got married, which is when it was painted. She bolted upright as she heard footsteps rumble towards the door, cursing UPS for being so damn persistent in such foul weather. It occurred to her that it was absurd and wrong to be so continuously thinking of one engrossing topic, and she made a strenuous effort to force her mind to other questions. No offence, I hope. There was no point in rushing into the long walk home. She awoke and found herself home amid a pile of three bodies, one of which she recognized as a former denizen of the household. They are not bad girls, but the average tourist has that misconception of them. Died short, I suppose, and the girls had to shift for themselves. ‘I do not steal,’ declared the lady hotly. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes.
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