We men are like children. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. Somewhere you may stumble upon a clew to his identity. ’ She paused, struggling for the word. ‘Why do you think I told you about the portrait? I’d not seen it, of course, but I’d seen Miss Mary just before she got married, which is when it was painted. ’ ‘Yolande, my maid?’ ‘You don’t need a maid,’ Martha said stoutly. Always. 13 with a latchkey went humming lightly up to her room.
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