''She should not,'' says my uncle.
Mr Huss draws close. His coat is thick and he is sweating. He takes the tips of my fingers. ''Miss Lilly,'' he says. ''If I might ever—''⊥本⊥作⊥品⊥由⊥思⊥兔⊥網⊥提⊥供⊥線⊥上⊥閱⊥讀⊥
''Come come,'' says my uncle. ''Now you grow tedious. Here''s my coachman, look. Maud, do you step back from the door ..."
''Fools,'' he says, when the gentlemen have gone. ''Eh, Rivers? But come, I''m impatient to begin. You have your tools?''
''I can fetch them, sir, in a moment.''
He bows, and goes. My uncle makes to follow. Then he turns, to look at me. He looks, in a considering sort of way, then beckons me closer. ''Give me your hand, Maud,'' he says. I think he means to have me support him on the stairs. But when I offer him my arm he takes it, holds it, raises my wrist to his face, draws back the sleeve and squints at the strip of skin exposed. He peers at my cheek. ''Pale, do they say? Pale as mushroom? Hmm?'' He works his mouth. ''You know what kind of matter mushrooms spring from?—Ho!'' He laughs. ''Not pale, now!''
I have coloured and drawn away. Still laughing, he lets fall my hand, turns from me, begins to mount the stairs alone. He wears a pair of soft list slippers, that show his stockinged heels; and I watch him c