“Good, I’m so glad, Lucy. Happened to be at the Chariot, you know, with Trodger, and it’s review day. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. The door was opened, and Austin entered the cell, when he absolutely recoiled before the spectacle he beheld, and could scarcely have looked more alarmed if the prison had tumbled about his ears. It was her job to keep the house as neat as a pin, up to the high standard that Sheila expected, being a nurse. So Ruth returned to her room and sorted the books and magazines the doctor had loaned her, inspected the titles and searched for pictures.
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