As the novel grew Ruth was astonished to see herself enter and dominate it: sometimes as she actually was, with all her dreams reviewed—as if he had caught her talking in her sleep. To his relief, Mrs Sindlesham stepped into the breach, grasping her cane and rising painfully from her chair. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. There was a lock, apparently more than a foot wide, strongly plated, and girded to the door with thick iron hoops. Capes looked at one and not over one, spoke to one, treated one as a visible concrete fact. He was going to tell me something— and he shut up.
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