A neat tale, giving little away. Her relationship with John had made her the object of desire for scores of teenage boys who had dared not previously think of her in such a way. It seemed that within an instant the Pestilence struck, and she begged me on her deathbed to shelter you and her grandson for the rest of your lives, as she could see that even though I was a ‘demon fiend’ and ‘minor devil’ that I loved you. That Mr. Jackson’s. I require nothing, you see, till my share of the contract is fulfilled. And she’s pluck to the backbone. What passed between them I cannot think—I dare not. ‘But so also it is downstairs.
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