She further suspected that he might find a servant to dally with in the meantime, if he had not already. There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor. Her fingers passed over a cunningly wrought surface of wood, with just the correct amount of protrusion, the precise colours of dyed leather, and cleverly gilded surfaces and neatly painted lettering. Spurlock (himself verging upon the hysterical) welcomed the diversion. "Speak, or I fire!" "Well, if you will have it, it's Sir Rowland Trenchard.
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