I had better go, as you suggest, and get out of the way." He intercepted her petulant march to the door.
"I wish you'd tell me what's the matter.

It isn't only a headache." "It's Hell and the Devil and all his angels," said Emmy, "and I'd like to murder somebody." "You can murder me, if it would do you any good," said Septimus.
"I believe you'd let me," she said, yielding.

"You're a good sort." She turned, with a short laugh, her novel held in both hands behind her back, one finger holding the place.

A letter dropped from it.

Septimus picked it up and handed it to her.