‘No,’ said Cytherea, in a long-drawn whisper.
‘How those dogs howl, don’t they?’
‘Yes. A little dog in the house began it.’
‘Ah, yes: that was Totsy. He sleeps on the mat outside my father’s bedroom door. A nervous creature.’
There was a silent interval of nearly half-an-hour. A clock on the landing struck three.
‘Are you asleep, Miss Aldclyffe?’ whispered Cytherea.
‘No,’ said Miss Aldclyffe. ‘How wretched it is not to be able to sleep, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ replied Cytherea, like a docile child.
Another hour passed, and the clock struck four. Miss Aldclyffe was still awake.
‘Cytherea,’ she said, very softly.