But you have, haven’t you?’ He tutted again. The old lady’s face was stiff with anger. “You silly wimmin,” he said over and over again throughout the hearing, plucking at his blotting-pad with busy hands. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. ‘Very well, never mind. "Ha!" he exclaimed, with a sudden start, as his glance fell upon the portrait; "how came this into your possession, boy?" "Why don't you answer, sirrah?" cried Wild, in a savage tone, and striking him with the silver staff.
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