She could hear the raucous laughter and bad music below. Lucy could see the anger in her silhouette, the punishments and the grounding being formulated for the now dead daughter. The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist. But it is only fair to warn you that it isn’t expected. All alone; and nobody cared whether he lived or died. Gerald studied the darkness beyond the aperture. Their subsequent conversation is outside the scope of our story. The whole of that relationship persisted in remaining obscure. Every house-top, every window, every wall, every projection, had its occupants. The jolly part of it was that for the first time in her life so far as London was concerned, she was not going anywhere in particular; for the first time in her life it seemed to her she was taking London in. He only laughed his defiance. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. He was perhaps forty-five years of age. Wood trembled.
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