She could feel his breath on her skin, every hair on her arms and neck raised in response. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. She asked the girl to fetch Mr. Roof open —like a Noah’s Ark. "He's a base, deceitful, tyrannical, hoary-headed libertine—that's what he is. Lucy looked at her reflection with a measure of awe. She was faint from hunger, her head spinning into dizziness, the blood madness readying for battle. She drove me. I struck him across the face, twisted the steering wheel of the motor, sprang out myself, and left him for dead on the road with the motor on top of him. I have discovered something of her background.
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