She must be told of the beauties and dimensions of Stornham, all relatable details of Rosy's life must be generously dwelt on.

Above all Rosy must be made to write letters, and with an air of freedom however specious.
A knock on the door broke the thread of her reflection.

It was a low-sounding knock, and she answered the summons herself, because she thought it might be Rosy's.
It was not Lady Anstruthers who stood outside, but Ughtred, who balanced himself on his crutches, and lifted his small, too mature, face.
"May I come in ?" he asked.
Here was the unexpected again, but she did not allow him to see her surprise.
"Yes," she said.

"Certainly you may." He swung in and then turned to speak to her.
"Please shut the door and lock it," he said.
There was sudden illumination in this, but of an order almost whimsical.
That modern people in modern days should feel bolts and bars a necessity of ordinary intercourse was suggestive.

She was plainly about to receive enlightenment.