Along the inner side was a wonderfully arranged series of displayed specimens that Russell himself had prepared. ’ ‘Secret passage, is it?’ The sergeant seemed to brighten at this. It hit her just above the knee. 167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. On one side of the handbill a print of the reigning sovereign, Anne, had been pinned over the portrait of William the Third, whose aquiline nose, keen eyes, and luxuriant wig, were just visible above the diadem of the queen. Earles threw down his pen with a little exclamation. The young male, as she had actually seen him, had been of the sailor type, hard-bitten, primordial, ruthless.
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