“H’m!” he said, regarding the wreckage with a calmer visage. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. The poor boy, wanting his empty coat! The incident, however, caused her to review the recent events. The flush deck was without wells. He flung open the door and cast a quick glance round. ’ Mrs Ibstock’s lips tightened and she looked away a moment. ’ ‘I swear to you, it is the exact truth,’ he protested.
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