A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. Manning, and that her aunt focussed a brightly tactful disregard upon this throughout the meal. ‘She’s an eviltempered little termagant, yes, but there’s no malice aforethought.
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